


Et Cetera

by blodskaal



Category: Kingdom of Heaven (2005), Original Work, Outlander (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Crusades, F/M, Family Drama, Historical, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-01-16 12:25:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 81,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18521479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blodskaal/pseuds/blodskaal
Summary: Suzanne Gentile is a History student aiding in an archival mission in Jerusalem, after uncovering an ancient ritual chamber, she is brought back to the year 1180, under the reign of King Baldwin IV. Looked upon with suspicion, the only way of preserving her life is posing as a holy alchemist, capable of curing the afflicted King.Knowing the truth about his fate, Suzie is torn between telling the truth or letting history run its course. She finds that she has more to lose than her life.





	1. I Am Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> **This story TAKES PLACE in the Outlander universe, but is ultimately its own story. This is not truly an Outlander fanfic. Roger will make an appearance as a professor briefly,though, because he's a legend! I love Diana Gabaldon's time traveler dynamics and wanted to use them. Expect frequent edits and corrections as I get caught up on the books.
> 
> **Aesthetic Inspiration taken from Kingdom of Heaven (2005), but nothing much else because the movie itself is kind of bad. I'm drawing a storyline from the actual timeline of Baldwin IV's role with minimal changes.

**Chapter I : I am Far Away**

I would never admit it, but I adored _The King and I_. I had first seen the film with my mother when it came out in 1956, I was young. I adored it so much that my father bought me a record and my own record player so that I could play the soundtrack over and over. I imagined myself in the royal court of some faraway land, sporting a ridiculous skirt like Deborah Kerr’s. Despite the middle-class suburban comforts of my childhood, I always longed for more.

 

I found myself in some faraway land after all. In my junior year of studies in UCLA, I opted for a study abroad program to Jerusalem. The city had been in dire straits, officials of all religions in the city appealed for help in preserving the city’s heritage should war cause more destruction than it already has.

   

The land was not like the travel posters, the “exotic” environment was in fact an arid land no different from the desert between my hometown and Las Vegas. the “heathens” were, in fact, people no different from my classmates and I. Aside from the fact they spoke different languages and wore longer clothing in the heat, they were quite agreeable.

   

No matter how nice my hosts were, I still felt far from home. I had forgotten to write my parents again. Our hostel was far from the nearest post office. Today’s job was hot, I’m a historian, not an archaeologist. I wondered why I agreed to this trip sometimes. I missed California. I missed the beach. I missed Disneyland and air conditioning.

 

This week’s mission was the cataloguing and photographing of every inch of the church of the Holy Sepulchre. The church itself wasn’t at risk, but its artifacts had to be accounted for regardless.

 

I haven’t been to church in awhile, I don’t consider myself religious. The last time I attended confession, I didn’t even know what pot was. But this place had a pull on me- it was where Constantine commemorated the resurrection of Jesus Christ. The history of Jerusalem was embedded in this church; Byzantines, Crusaders, and Ottomans all left something here of themselves.

 

Gabe and I had been put together as partners, and we were alone most of the time in the Chapel of Saint Helena, much to the chagrin of the monks who were supposed to keep us in line. I liked Gabe, though

   

“Still working on that graffiti?”

 

“Its definitely Latin, you know how good I was in Dr. Silva’s Latin class. Mind translating this one phrase for me?”

 

I looked back and forth between the broken half-brick and Gabe’s rough writing on Steno Pad

AMA ME FIDELITER - FIDEM MEAM TOTO - DECORDE TOTALITER - ET EX MENTE TOTA - SUM PRESENTALITER - ABSENS IN REMOTA

"' _Love me faithfully, See I am faithful, something heart and soul, even though I am far away, I am with you_ '"

 

“That’s real nice, Suzie, but shouldn't we go on a date first?”

 

“Shut up” I nudge, trying to suppress the reddening of my face. “It looks like part of it is missing, where did you find this?”

 

“Part of that wall over there, it came loose when you walked by, i’m surprised you didn’t notice”

 

He pointed to the wall of a cell adjacent the chapel, a portion which, I had noticed, seemed distorted compared to the rest of the room. I walked over to the wall, covered in additional pieces of graffiti- various crosses lined the chapel, but they all stopped where the indention began. I felt a breeze near the hole; it wasn’t part of the original wall, it was covering something.

 

“Uh… Gabe?” I stammered “You remember reading _A Cask of Amontillado_ in Freshman year?”

 

“No way..” I heard the squeak of a wooden chair moving backwards as Gabe stood up and stepped towards me as I reached a grasping hand into the wall, feeling nothing on the other side.

 

“Shit. Maybe we should talk to Dr. Cohen.”

 

“She’s visiting family and won't be back until Wednesday.”

 

“Well, the priests aren’t gonna let us pull this place apart anyway.” Gabe resigned, scratching the back of his head. “And its getting late, they’re gonna have to prepare this place for mass tomorrow. All we can do is make a note for them to contact the archaeologists.

 

I heard every word he said, but my curiosity remained with the wall itself. The half of the brick that had not come loose did so with a gentle pull.

 

“Look” I showed him the half piece, and a whole brick I was able to pull loose simultaneously. “Comes apart like Legos” Whoever mixed this concrete was no professional; the bottoms of the bricks did not bind strongly enough, earthquakes over time rattled some give into their positions.

 

“Suzie, no.”

 

“What if the Templars left some treasure in here?”

 

“I’m not violating some UN antiquities agreement by crawling into a dark hole without permission, let’s go, Dinner’s on in 10” I looked back at him, he looked at his watch, he looked nervous just watching me pull the wall apart. Gabe was smart, Gabe was funny and cute, but Gabe was also a bit of a drag.

 

“Fine, lets go.” I surrendered, putting all the pieces back into place

 

**\--**

 

Gabe and I met up with our other classmates for dinner- standard Mediterranean fare. We parted ways back to our hostel. Tasha, my roommate, did not hesitate to ask me about Gabe.

 

“So what d’ya both do down there fa hours and hours?” Tasha inquired, sounding even more Bostonian than usual

 

“Dr. Cohen dropped the biggest workload on us, and you know how Gabe is- nothing fun”

 

“Suze, we gotta get you laid. Boys like Gabe are out- When we get back home, i’ll take you to a real party.”

 

“Oh now I have a question, whats a hippie doing on a rich college kids’ trip?” I grinned, crossing my arms.

 

“It's not just about that, baby. You'd know that if you got out more!”

 

I was still a virgin, it didn’t bother me, even as my friends had all found someone and experienced things I haven’t. That was part of being grown up and free to make my own choices, I didn’t care so much about certain things, and I didn’t care about the choices others made for themselves.

 

\--

 

The hostel did not have hot water, I didn’t mind. The cool water relieved me of the day’s intense heat as I showered. The sage body wash I brought perfumed the air of the bathroom. Burning sage is supposed to ward off evil spirits. I would have liked to burn some, but the owner of the Hostel forbade it. I thought about the hole in the chapel, and if there were evil spirits waiting there.

 

I slipped into a silk nightgown, and fell asleep fairly easily that night. Staying asleep was something else entirely, though dreamless, I felt like I was being watched by someone far in the distance

 

I woke up at 4 am. 4 hours until I was supposed to meet with my class. Tasha was still asleep, she would likely sleep for much longer, as she stayed up reading her mystery novels in the night. I downed two unbuttered bagels and some fruit, brushed my teeth and put on a long white dress. The dress was standard of what was popular that year, and proper enough that the clergy would not stare and shake their heads. The night air of the desert outside was cold, I wrapped a dark blue wool shawl around my shoulders.

 

In my dark brown leather satchel, I double checked to make sure I had everything I needed; baseball cap, sunglasses, lipstick, planner, Oxford history textbook, keys, flashlight, trail mix, and my wallet. Yep, check. I was always cautious about making sure I had everything I needed. Everyone was still asleep. Prone to cabin fever, I quickly wrote a note on the kitchenette counter for Tasha.

 

“ _Got a head staht at the Holy Sepulcha, i’ll see ya thear!_ ” I wrote, poking fun at her accent. I added a smiley face, so she wouldn’t get too offended or anything. Tossing my bag over my shoulder, I left, locking the door behind me.

 

I took my time walking through the old city. The Sun was taking its time, not even yet glowing on the horizon. I enjoyed the sights and sounds around me, children playing amongst the chaotic mess of ancient streets- a far cry from the grid of suburban America. I caught a whiff of burnt bread, some baker’s apprentice must have made a mistake. Even at this hour, the city seemed alive and wide awake, ready to face the day as I was.

 

While the world seemed intent on moving forward in time, I kept thinking back to that hole in the wall of the chapel. I have always been curious, despite my father’s love of calling me “Miss know-it-all”, I knew the limitations of my mind and could not resist trying to learn more.

 

Perhaps I was flying too close to the sun when I reached the Sepulchre’s back door. I pulled out the keys the Priests had given us so we could move more freely. The one priest that did see me enter was one of the older, nicer ones. Orthodox judging by the color of his robe. He had frizzy silver hair that began in a long beard and faded into nothing at the top of his head, and small brown liverspots scattered under small, brown eyes. He smiled and gave a “good morning” in the best english he could. I reciprocated, not knowing he would be the last person from my time that I would see for a year.

 

When I reached the Chapel of Saint Helena, I made sure it was completely empty. I checked my planner. Gabe was full of shit, today was Saturday. There would be no mass. I sighed, slamming the purple booklet shut with one hand, still debating whether to open the wall or not.

 

I began with the brick, prying it loose gently with my nails. “How the hell did this thing fall out by itself?” I thought to myself, idly rubbing my thumb across the affectionate, feebly etched graffiti on the brick.

 

I did not remove every brick, some would not come loose at all, and I only needed an opening big enough to fit myself through. I gently placed each brick on the ground, to avoid making unnecessary noise. Eventually, the hole was large enough to point my flashlight into, I peered in, and felt both excitement and anxiety as I realized that beyond the wall was a short hallway that fell into a staircase.

 

\--

 

I probably should have turned around. I should have climbed back out of the hole and closed the damn thing up for another few hundred years. All I remember of my journey down to the chamber was struggling to fit my ruffled dress through the passage without ruining it.

 

I don’t even remember climbing down the dense, narrow spiral staircase. Perhaps I fell down the whole thing.

 

What I do remember, vividly, was the chamber as I found it. It was small, my flashlight captured brief flashes of blue and gold mosaics on the wall, and a mosaic floor that instantly reminded me of those founded in European castles; a circle. The circle represents eternity, heaven. To a coronated king, these floors signified their divine role in government, and their pact with God.

 

As I absorbed every little detail I could through the weak yellow light of my flashlight until it hummed, flashed brightly, and burnt out.

 

It was at this moment I started panicking. I dropped my flashlight on the ground, I heard the tiny lens of glass shatter. In my panic I must have spun around a couple of times, seeking a sense of direction in total darkness. Unable to muster a cry for help, I fell gently to my knees. There was a humming, it sounded like a distant chanting, but erratic and wrong. I tried to pull myself up by dragging myself forward, not even recoiling as little shards of glass eased into the olive flesh of my knees.

 

For a moment I finally had my balance, and put one hand down to put all my weight on.

 

I fell back down immediately as I felt a powerful thrust, as if I was suddenly being pulled in all directions. When I finally came to, I realized that I was in the same chamber. Lit candles cast dim lights and illuminated the gold pebbles of the mosaics around me. My broken flashlight and its glass shrapnel had disappeared.

 

I was in the same place, but I knew I was not where I was before. Something was terribly wrong.


	2. Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suzie has a lot of time to reflect on her life in prison, and even makes a couple friends along the way.

The night before I left, my brother, Charlie, had driven me home in his beaten-up grey-blue Cadillac. I had wrapped up my last day working at the local Soda Fountain, and was ready to kick off my heels and lay down for my long trip tomorrow.

Charlie opened the door and I was met with a loud “Surprise!”

Every member of my family in California had shown up for my going-away party, they had each brought some kind of booze or home cooked delicacy. Amidst drunken hooting and hollering amongst my uncles and male cousins, we reminisced about what my cousins and I were all like as children. My father was Italian, and possibly the biggest Catholic stereotype of all time; I had no shortage of aunts and uncles, and a generous amount of cousins to account for. I also had Charlie, my older brother and best friend in the world. 

As the party died down, my aunt Sophia and I remained at the dinner table as the rest of the family played with my two-year-old second cousin, Diana.

“Do you think you’ll ever fall out of love with this, Suziebear?” my aunt asked, swishing her glass of whiskey. The sound of the ice hitting glass was magical, as was the puffed, black, Jackie-Kennedy hairdo she kept so pristine on top of her head.

I shook my head, looking down at my own glass of Coca-Cola, playing with the condensation on the side of the glass “Charlie spent two years in the peace corps in Asia, but he knows his home will always be here”

“I worry about you both, you know. And i’m also thinking of your father, after you leave, and Charlie heads off to training, he’ll be all alone.”

I looked over at my father as he blew raspberries on the toddler’s stomach. He was a jolly man alright; a war veteran that loved his family deeply.

“He always tells us to follow our gut, I think he’ll be okay.” I shook the ice in my glass loose until it made a twinkling sound like aunt Sophia’s did. “I know he’ll be okay”

 

\---

 

“Hello?” I cried softly, looking towards the stairs, repeating myself louder, hoping someone would hear me “Hello?!”

I wanted to stand up, but I felt disoriented, as if I had just been spun around on one of those shifty carnival rides my Mother used to hate letting me go on. I could only drag myself closer to the cool stone wall, and pull my knees up to my chest.

Eventually, I heard soft, muffled footsteps. I saw the clear silhouette of a friar; he was short, with a slightly hunched back, brown robes, and crude leather sandals. He turned his head about, and called out something that sounded almost-french and along the lines of “whose there?”

Eventually he reached the bottom of the stairs and saw my terrified form, curled up against the wall. He invoked the Virgin in Latin and crossed himself. In the light I saw his features more closely, he seemed to be of african descent,with a rounded jawline and big, downturned eyes full of concern. He knelt down and asked me what was wrong or what I was doing in this strange, dangerous room.

“I’m sorry, father. I’m so sorry. Father. I shouldn’t have done it.”

I was trembling, trying to stifle tears. I thought Gabe was being boring, but he was right. I was facing legal trouble, now.

The continued line of questioning in his own tongue proved he could not speak English, though he seemed to come to attention at the word “Father”

I was excellent at interpreting written Latin; I had done everything from Virgil to Late Medieval Manuscripts with ease. Maybe it was due to my Italian heritage, but it was easier for me to pick up than anything I attempted in High School French class.

“ _ Pater _ ?”

He suddenly seemed at ease, upon hearing a mutual language.

“I’m here, child, what has happened?”

“I don’t know what i’m doing down here. I made a mistake.”

“Are you in danger, child? Are you hurt?” He gently turns my head back and forth between his small, rough hands, examining for any sign of injury.

“No. I’m safe, but I need to find my friends.” I finally found enough balance to lift myself up, the friar put both hands under my arms in assistance.

“Do you have a name?”

“Suzie” I paused, remembering that my  _ nomine _ would sound different in Latin “Susana”

“Your speech sounds very old, child. Where are you from?” The friar asked, leading from behind by my arm as we ascended the staircase, assuring I would not lose my balance. For a moment, I might have thought he was joking, we were both speaking a language that was long dead.

“California”

He was silent, I forgot that most non-Americans did not know every single state

“I-i’m from America”

“Ahh” He patted my arm.

When we reached the door, I was surprised to find that the entrance I had come through was replaced by an archway with two heavy wooden doors, supported by iron frames. Had they installed this while I was asleep? If I had been knocked out, could it have really been that long? Who had lit the candles in the room? The priest brought me to the main chapel, everything looked different; the decorations and furnishings were far more sparse.Heavy footsteps paired with the swaying of chainlinks guided two men dressed as crusaders into the room. Both men were had fair complexions and thick, flaxen beards.

“Is there.. An event today?” I asked in English, looking at both of them.

Both soldiers ignored me, the one with dark brown hair spoke up first “Is this strange whore harassing the clergy, Athanasius?” he inquired in Latin.

“She has done no wrong by us, she must have found herself lost in the cold of the night.”

“We have to confiscate her, father. Can’t take any chances, especially with ones as swarthy as this. Could be one of Saladin’s agents, its probably not beneath him to use women.”

“You know what, screw this” I barked back in English. I think he understood me when I hissed “Asshole” and tried to walk on past him. He intercepted me with a single step, and gripped the sides of my head, holding my jaws shut.

“Big talk from such a little thing. I could cave your head in like a juicy, ripe peach” he sneered, tightening his grip.

“Bartolomeu, please....”

“I’m only thinking security here, Father”

“This chapel is a house of God, this woman has done no wrong in seeking rest here.”

“We’re not here to harass the homeless, Bartolomeu.” The other knight spoke up. His hair was reddish and close-shaved, it was almost the same color as the cross on his chest. “Athanasius, I patrol the streets around the Sepulchre day and night and do not recognize this woman. Why has she decided to appear in secret just as our king has departed for Banias?”

“ _ Is this supposed to be a funny way of teaching me a lesson? _ ” I thought to myself. I loved History, I loved watching mock ghost town shootouts when I was younger, but this level of reenactment was too much for me.

“Look at you, talking too much again,  _ vulpes _ .” The dour man known as Bartolomeu scoffed “If she didn’t know too much before, she does now.”

“I beg you both- please, don’t hurt her.”

“She will be well guarded. She doesn’t look like one of the Heathens, but we must take every precaution.”

“This is so wrong.” I looked back and forth at all three men. I repeated the same thing over and over as panic grew in my voice, and I alternated between archaic Latin and Modern English “I wanted to help fix things here, but If you guys actually do something, the embassy is gonna hear about it.”

The priest bowed, before looking at me with sad eyes “I am sorry, child. I will retrieve you upon release. Until then, I will pray for you.” I looked down and bit my cheek.

I couldn’t tell if this father Athanasius was a fool to trust me with these men, or if he was truly afraid of them. Although I was furious, my better judgement told me not to struggle. I did not resist, even when one of the two knights forcibly pulled my sagging shawl back onto my shoulders.

The moment I realized that I had gone back occured as I looked at the people around me. It was clear why they had pulled the shawl back onto my shoulders; the streets were filled with women dressed so modestly that it would have made my nonna groan. With exposed arms and ankles, even in the desert climate, I stood out. Entire buildings were missing or looked completely different, the window flyers advertising Persian films and American soda pop were all but gone. Glass windows altogether done away with, I could still smell bread baking, and hear children playing, but there was neither a car on the road nor a street performer in sight. Were it not for the midday heat scorching my back, I would have felt the stares of dozens of strangers cast upon me.

 

\---

The cell they locked me in was quite cool, considering the toasty path I had taken here. It was also sparsely populated, which, given the knight’s strict policies concerning potential subterfuge, caused me to worry about the fate of most prisoners. Thankfully, they seemed to like me, as they provided five-star accomodations for my stay; my bed, a wooden bench fashioned into the wall, a tall, iron bucket of water, and a tin chamber pot that I hoped they would not mix up at some point. A frightened young knight initiate had even brought me an itchy wool blanket. I thanked him, and tried to ignore him as he stared at my exposed arms and neck.

The redhead from earlier had been the one to bring me my meal. I hadnt eaten for quite some time, and Amidst the humdrum of my college life, I had developed odd eating habits. Therefore, the meal being strange chunks of grey boiled meat and a hard slice of bread mattered little to me. I still had an appetite, the gravity of what was happening had not yet hit me.

“My lady?” The man asked as he slipped the meal under the iron grating of my cell.

I turned to look at him, unenthused.

“I, ah, I hope you can forgive my brother. He recently lost his wife and unborn child. He is normally a gentleman”

“Well” I leaned against the bars, holding the thin clay bowl in my right hand “You don’t look related, what did you say your name was again,  _ Vulpes _ ?”

“ _ Non _ , we are brothers only in the friendship we have had since we joined the order” The large man smiled warmly “ And you’re close, its ‘Reynard’, I am called  _ Vulpes _ sometimes for the color of my beard.” 

“Reynard! As in Reynard the Trickster Fox?”

He chucked “Yes, it was quite popular in Gwynedd when I was born, my grandfather was literate, and loved reading those stories to my siblings and I. Had I been born a celtic heathen, my red hair wouldn’t have been so strange.”

“Ah, you are from  _ Britannia _ ” I sat down on the creaking bench. My appetite was gone. This man came from what I knew as Great Britain, and I would not be able to converse with him in English. I was gone far away from everyone, not a soul around me probably even knew of the existence of the American landmass.

“Reynard?” I hesitated, feeling my chest weaken “What day is it today?”

“It is the 8th of April, in the Year of Our Lord 1179, my lady. It is also the fourth year in the reign of our King, Baldwin IV. Long may he reign.”

“I see.”I stopped breathing. I tried to place this on the grand timeline of civilizational history; I was four hundred or so years away from the scientific revolution and anything resembling modern medicine. Marco Polo and Ibn Battuta are not even alive yet. I was five hundred years away from the Enlightenment that would encourage equality amongst men. I was raised into an age of a changing tide for women and minorities, I did not even want to remind myself of how far away I was from either of those.

“Are you feeling well, my lady? I cannot allow visits, but if you have family in the city, I can find them and let you both know that the other is safe.”

“No Reynard.. Thank you, there’s no one, i’m new here.” The way he answered my question stirred something in me, it was not simply the doom I felt in knowing I was centuries away from my own time.

“But I do have another question” I hesitated, wondering briefly if it would offend him “I do not mean any offense, but is King Baldwin a Leper?”

Reynard seemed puzzled, then he chuckled deeply “I guess it seems more of a rumor to outsiders, but yes, our King was cursed at a young age, but he has proven himself more than worthy of his title, and, if you ask me, worthy of the Lord’s forgiveness. Even if he will not live long on earth, I know in my heart he will live forever at Christ’s side.” He crossed himself quietly as he finished his statement. I noticed the reddening of his eyes, I knew a big softie when I saw one, but I dared not call him out on it.

I was never good with exact dates, but the mention of Banias, and having a general understanding of King Baldwin’s reign had sent my mind running on a tangent, considering the situation I was in. Around 1179, Baldwin IV’s glory teenage years would struggle due to greater losses in attempts to counter Saladin.

“ _ Damn everything _ ” I thought to myself, I didn’t know where my bag was. I had read the  _ Oxford History of Jerusalem  _ front and back for my classes, but it was small details like this that would save me if I wanted to convince the crusaders that I was not a spy. I proceeded anyway, knowing that Reynard and everyone else knew even less about their future than I did. If I got it wrong, the worst that could happen was me being declared a nutcase.

“If your king has just left, you need to relay a message to him immediately; a relative of Saladin’s will be ready to respond to the attack” The only reason I remembered the name of the constable that would sacrifice his life for Baldwin’s was because he shared a name with President Johnson’s VP.

“Humphrey. Constable Humphrey, he will die trying to protect his king.”

“You..” Reynard looked about nervously “How do you know this?”

“Reynard, i’m trying to help you. It is as you said, Baldwin’s reign will not be a long one. His sister will have to produce a successor, that successor will certainly be a child. There will have to be a regent. Jerusalem will need every seasoned government official possible to find the best fit for that role.”

Reynard paused for a minute, and exhaled deeply. He walked away from me and pressed his hand against the grey stone wall, he was visibly deep in thought. After a minute or so, he turned back to me “I cannot write, I will ask my superior to send the message, but how do I explain the source, are you actually a spy?”

That was a good question, I did not want to get Reynard in trouble. I was better off seeming like a madwoman if I was wrong, than dead if the Crusaders believed me to be a spy.

“Ask him to write the source as ‘ _ a strange woman named  _ Susana’”

 

\---

On the second day of my imprisonment, two knights forced a man who appeared to be in his mid-30s into a cell to the right of mine. His back was bleeding out from various sores. I got a brief glimpse of his face as they dragged him past me, his mouth was curled back in fear and agony, and his eyes were wrinkled into small, puffy slits. The knights did not speak the same language as this man, who seemed to speak a form of Italian similar to Dante’s original script, and who quite clearly was suffering from scurvy.

Reynard stopped by with my supper, I had requested that, if it was possible, that I could receive a root vegetable and a citrus fruit of some kind with every meal. I did not want to bother explaining the concept of a food pyramid to Reynard, but I knew I would get sick eating only meat and bread if I was to stay here for very long. The guards seemed more sympathetic towards me; perhaps it was their medieval sense of chivalry and belief in my natural weakness as a woman, perhaps I seemed to be of a higher class due to my knowing Latin. Whatever it was, I was benefiting from it.

“Who is the man that was locked up here today? The one with the thick, curly black hair?” I inquired anyway to Reynard regarding the sickly individual.

“Hes a thief, Lady Susana. He stole a whole loaf of bread. Don’t know his name, sounds like hes from Naples, probably a sailor, but no crew has come looking for him. I apologize that we had to put him right next to ya, rats have all but overrun the downstairs cells. Let me know if he gets too rowdy and i’ll silence him”

“That’s it? But hes so ill!” He needs rest and nourishment, could you give him an etrog as you have given me?” I pleaded, holding up the yellow citric fruit, knowing that the vitamins in it would at least help the scurvy.

“I can’t, not for thieves. He’s lucky he’s being given real bread and not the moldy mess we pull out of the leftovers basket.”

I nodded in understanding. I didn’t doubt that Reynard was a good person, but he put his job before his humanity. The man was malnourished; he didn't steal jewelry or shoes, he merely needed to eat.

After Reynard had left out of listening distance, I tried to call out to the man. I knew very little Italian, but I threw out as many words as I could to get his attention. I hoped at least one would seem familiar to the kind of Italian he spoke

“ _ Signore, signore! Per favore, guarde! Prendere! _ ” I repeated the words a few times. Eventually I heard a grunt and a slow dragging towards the front of his cell. Double checking to see if the guards were looking, I rolled the yellow fruit towards him. I couldn’t see if the etrog had reached his grasp, but finally heard a weak, tearful exclamation;

“ _ Grazie, grazie _ ” 

 

\---

 

I called the man “Valjean”, after the character from the character from Victor Hugo’s novel  _ Les Misérables _ . Both of them had stolen some bread and were serving an unjust amount of time for it _.  _ I continued to give Valjean my etrog every time it was offered in my meal. He needed it more than I did. Each day, when we were brought out for some exercise, he would go separate from me with the other men and I would smile and wave at him. On the fifth day, I noticed that his gums were no longer inflamed, and he no longer seemed weak when he walked.

The rest of the hours of those days were long and dull. I spent a lot of time singing showtunes that I missed, or etching flowers into the stone walls. The prison guards were almost always in their standard Knight uniform. I sat in the cell in a way that the building looked less like a prison from my eyes and more like the inside of a castle. From there I would watch the knights go about their daily business and pretend the situation was better than it was. It reminded me of the musical Johnny Kennedy loved before he was murdered.  


 

_The rain may never fall till after sundown_   
_By eight, the morning fog must disappear_   
_In short, there's simply not a more congenial spot_   
_For happily ever after in than here in Camelot_

 

I tried not to think about my home and my family. I wondered if time was passing for them too, I wondered if I could ever go back or if this was all a bad dream. I thought about what my aunt said about my father being left alone. Our mother died when Charlie and I were still young, our father had basically raised us alone, he was our mother and father, we were his life’s work. I could barely stand to think about him wondering where his daughter was, worrying about his son answering the draft… If I was missing, I hoped that they could at least pardon Charlie. Thinking about him going to Vietnam filled me with just as much dread and uncertainty as I felt anticipating my future in the 12th century. He was a sensitive boy, he seemed fine with being drafted, but I know war isn’t for him. He showed me every picture he took in the Philippines and Myanmar with the Peace Corps. In each one I could see the joy he had in helping orphans, the poor and oppressed. That joy can never come out of oppressing and hurting other people, it never has. Not once in history.

The heavy footsteps that approached my cell on the seventh day of my imprisonment were not Reynard’s, but Bartolomeu’s. He seemed stern, void of emotion, but not as callous as he was when I first met him in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.

“Did you heal the thief?” He asked in a hoarse, husky tone, quickly turning a glance at Valjean’s cell.

“He was sick, and I could help him. I didn’t want to let him die?”

“How in God’s name did you heal him from such a curse?”

I didn’t know how to answer Bartolomeu’s interrogation. The cure for scurvy wouldn’t come around until the 18th century. I had to make my explanation as easy to understand as possible by putting it in humorist terms.

“The etrog, the er, yellow fruit that the Jews cultivate, It has certain.. Alchemical properties. When consumed raw, it makes the… bad Bile that causes that sickness to go away.”

“Alchemy? Ah you’re one of those.”Judging by his expression, he seemed to follow, albeit barely. ”Should have let the poor bastard be, though. He could have been a goner after a couple of days. Now they’re just gonna execute him, and its not gonna be pretty”

“Why?!” My heart sank, I could barely form words. “Why?! He was starving! Just let him go, send him back to Naples where he can find a new job and never bother you again!”

“If he needed bread, he should have begged that bleeding heart helper of yours, Athanasius, for some. The private bakers don’t work for free, and he stole from one that knew a good lawyer.”

I felt my face grow hot, my eyes dampened and blurred with tears. Over the course of a week, I had seen a broken man come together again, and now as hope ran high, he was sentenced to death.

“Oh, that reminds me, the priest is waiting to receive you, he has the satchel you left under the Chapel. But that’ll have to wait, the nuns need to clean you up, make you presentable and that nonsense.”

Its true, I haven’t showered once since I have been imprisoned. I have only changed clothes once, I currently wore hideous, long linen that covered most of my body, but judging by the women’s fashion I had seen outside the prison, it wasn’t an uncommon look. I wondered then, why Jerusalem’s rabble would care about what a complete stranger wore.

“Might I ask why I have to look ‘presentable’?” I inquired.  


“Cause you look and smell like shit, girl” Bartolomeu snorted “And because you’re not quite released yet, you’re going to be tried today, but your judge’s court has a dress code. No prisoner’s rags.”

“Why am I being tried  _ now _ ? Did they even investigate my case?” I demanded answers as he unlocked the cell door, I turned, trying to face him as he bound my wrists.

“Sure they investigated; Few days ago you get my boss to send a letter for you, warning the King that Constable Humphrey’s life was in danger, that letter reaches the King ahead of time, and he re-orients Humphrey’s position relative to him as they got closer to Banias.”

I’ll admit, I was shocked when I found out that the king did not immediately discard my message, I was even more shocked to find out I remembered the details of this ultimately inconsequential battle, but the revelation made me all the more curious

“And then what?”

“Ahh, all the King did was request Humphrey ride one foot further behind him than normal. Just one measly foot. Sure enough, an arrow hits the Constable square in the left arm from his right, went nearly clean through but he’ll live. Had he been riding normal his heart would have been got.”

Did I just change history? Was this bad?

“Bartolomeu.. Who.. will be my judge?”

“Not the good Lord just yet girl, your judge this evening is King Baldwin IV”


	3. A Happy Tune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suzie is (sort of) tried by King Baldwin IV and Princess Sybilla for the crimes of Espionage, Trespassing, and Incitement of Crime. Afterward, she makes a heartbreaking discovery. (Not yet proofread, sorry for any mistakes)

Bartolomeu, true to his word, walked me down the jail cell halls and  to meet four nuns that would prepare me for my trial. They bathed me, scrubbed under my nails, braided back my hair, and lined the base of my neck with oils that smelled of the incense they burned every Mass. Few of them spoke Latin. I couldn’t tell, because they all seemed deep in a mass of conversation with each other, making each individual voice indistinguishable. All I could discern was something that had Latin roots; words like “body” and “teeth” made sense. They must have been speaking about me, but I would never truly know. Each seemed to eye me with ravenous curiosity, though none seemed the catty type.

“You can keep this one, it belonged to Sister Gianna, it was the last thing she wore, and none of us are tall enough to fit into it.” A young, mousy nun smiled sweetly, holding the dress out to me. I desperately wanted to know if that meant that the dress was what ‘Sister Gianna’ died in, but couldn’t articulate the question correctly in Latin.

At last, I was left alone in the bathing room. There were no mirrors, so I stood under stained-glass light and looked down my outfit. I had been given simple brown leather shoes to wear, they were quite cute, I might even consider wearing them in my own time. It was the dress that was most impressive; a cream-colored ivory color with dark red celtic patterns circling around the upper arm and waist, certainly placing it as an import from north of the mediterranean. The skirt had some swish to it, which I loved, even if it was long enough for me to have to carry in the dust. My neckline was visible from the bottom of my collarbone and up. Benedictine nuns were modest and had little spending money, where had the sister gotten this dress?

My thoughts were interrupted by Bartolomeu’s heavy footsteps outside the door, he had been waiting for me, two sharp knocks on the door as he knocked lazily with the edge of his knuckle “If you’re decent, its time to leave.”

I walked towards the door as it dawned on me, “ _ I’m about to meet the King of Jerusalem _ ”. I felt my throat go dry and my heartrate increase “ _ What am I going to say to plead my case? _ ”

I slowly opened the door, Bartolomeu’s face had gone from a stoic neutral to silent anger. “Where the hell did you get that?” He growled, looking my outfit up and down in a way that was more upset than complimentary.

“One of the nuns gave it to me, she said it belonged to a deceased sister.” I replied, wondering if I had done something to offend him. He paused silently and turned around, waving one arm beckoning me to follow him as he walked back towards the main area. We didn’t speak again for the rest of the day.

“This ones ready” He told a bored-looking guard at the door, the guard nodded and cracked open the door slightly, my slowed heart rate began to pick up again, even as the guard closed the door once again.

The guard mumbled something in French to Bartolomeu, I could only assume it was a criticism of how long the current hearing was taking. An hour ago, I thought I could have waited a little longer, but now I just wanted to get the hearing over with. If no one in my own time could know of my fate, I would at least like to know mine. In a best case scenario, they’d let me go and I’d flee back to the Sepulchre, wherever it was from here. Where the hell was I anyway?

“Ok, you go” the guard smirked at me, giving his best imitation of casual Latin. Before I could approach the door; an older woman, about my height, stormed out of the door. She was richly dressed in indigo fabrics with gold trimming. Her hair was done up, and there was sweat on her brow, evidently born of frustration rather than the agreeable temperature. Behind her trailed two fully-armored crusaders. She seemed to catch me staring, she too stopped to look at me, my gut told me to look down at my feet in submission to the noblewoman, I did so, and crossed my arms.

“Show some respect, urchin”, perhaps I was reading her reaction as far more severe than it really was, but whatever she told me stung, and reminded me of how far away I was from the democratic society of my own time.

The room I was led into was something akin to my high school auditorium, a large low-lying space making up the bulk of the room, with an elevated “stage” overlooking it. Perhaps at one point, it was a traditional chapel. There were a few dozen people in the jury, though given the time period, i’d say it was more of an ‘audience’ than a ‘jury’. I recognized two friendly faces in the crowd, at least, Father Athanasius and Reynard.

My nerves slowly began to still themselves as I looked at my Judge, Judges? There were two fantastically-dressed people on stage; one whom I could only deduce to be King Baldwin himself, but the woman standing next to him, I was unfamiliar with. Uncertain of how to proceed, angry at myself for not asking Bartolomeu on how to greet the king, and trying to seem as humbled as possible, I fell to my knees and curled over in a desperate, degrading sort of “bow”. An amused laugh erupted from the court, and from my judges.

“Stand, please. Perhaps you aren’t an Arab spy. I don’t even think you’re even facing Mecca.” The king responded, just as amused as the crowd was. I stood once again to face him. I realized that he was wearing a mask beneath a white hood, most of his skin was covered in one silvery-white fabric or another, possibly an attempt to conceal the visual effects of his leprosy.

“The court is now opened to the case of… Susana, a vagabond.” Declared the burly bailiff in the corner, whom himself looked more like an executioner for a bloodthirsty audience.

“Welcome, Susana, to Jaffa. I’m sorry to hear that you are desolate, tell me, how did this come to be?” He inquired, he was incredibly soft-spoken, but still managed to capture the entire room.

“I.. I am not desolate. I have a family.” I responded, confused at his question.

“I assumed such, your description states that you have all your teeth, clear eyes and skin, and soft, unworked hands. Perhaps you could tell me your family name, maternal or paternal?”

“My father’s family name is Gentile, they are from Florence.” I racked my brain for a story that was both believable and close enough to be considered truthful. “My mother is from the Minassian family, of Armenia.” I considered my father’s work as an overseer in the Post-War Aerospace industry “My father is a grandmaster in his trade.” I considered my family on my mother’s side that I had little contact with “My mother, uh, comes from a family of other assorted tradesmen.”

“And how did you come to be in Jerusalem?” This conversation felt more like an interview than me giving a testimony.

“I traveled to Jerusalem by myself your majesty. I was merely in a stint the night I was found. Despite the accusations I have heard, I am not the victim of trafficking, nor do I serve the Arabs. I have come to the holy land to learn from the scriptures kept here, and to preserve them forever.” 

“Are you a scholar?” The decorated woman next to the King spoke up. From the natural light coming through the windows, I was able to see the green-blue reflection of her curious eyes, and the noble angle of her pale jaw as she stared down at me, without a hint of negative judgement.

Her question delighted me, as it seemed a fantastic segue into establishing an identity for myself, one respectable enough to free me. I was unmarried and had no children or relatives to plead my innocence. Pretending to be the educated child of a well-off, foreign family seemed the next best thing to secure my safety. “I know it is unusual given my gender, but I am well versed in the history and literature of the ancient world. I came to Jerusalem seeking to make copies of manuscripts unknown to academia.”

“Once we are able to process you, i’ll be certain you have access to any resources we have in this principality.” She smiled in response.

“If I may interject..” a masculine voice boomed through the crowd. The room turned to face a tall, well-built soldier. He appeared to be in his late twenties. With a trimmed, brown beard and shiny locks falling around his head, it was hard to discern if he was older or younger than he appeared. “Forgive me for interrupting, Fair Lady Sibylla, but all who have made this acquaintance of this woman clarified that she does not understand Greek. Are not the vast majority of our monastic archives written in Greek?”

‘ _ Sibylla _ ’? Of course, this woman was Sibylla, the King’s brother, and eventually his successor for the throne. I was not technically lying when I stated that I had come to the old city in search of documenting historical texts, but it was true that I did not know Greek.

“You’re pardoned for your interjection, Guy de Lusignan“ Sibylla retorted ”Perhaps she intended to learn from native speakers, you would be hard pressed to find any Greek linguistic immersion in the Italian city-states. I myself learned it from speaking with my childhood nannies.” The knot in my stomach loosened. It sounded almost like she was defending me.

“Your Majesty, Lady Sybilla, if that were the case she should have said s-”

“May I have my court back, your majesty?” The King cut Guy off, a few chuckles erupted from the audience, and from Sybilla. Guy de Lusignan nodded, spoke something in French to Sybilla, and returned to the Jury. It was not good court conduct, but it would help me get the hell out of here.

A crusader king with a sense of humor, I liked the cut of this guy’s jib.

“I hope you do not mind my sister aiding in your judgement, Susana. We just had a reunion of sorts with my mother before receiving you.” The older woman I had seen outside of the court room must have been their mother, the Countess of Jaffa and Ascalon, whose name escapes me. “Having her remain here was convenient.”

“Not at all, your majesty.”

“I’m glad. You declare that you are a documenter of the past, but it seems that I also have your foresight of the future to thank for saving my constable.” He continued to speak “Humphrey is one of my most trusted allies, when I received your message, something told me to heed the warning or lose a great friend. The arrow that struck Humphrey was hasty, but flew too fast to be avoided. The wound was not fatal. May you state how you came to predict the attempt on my life?”

I should have expected this question, I knew it would come up, but I had no real response for it. Again, I wasn’t about to build up lies, so I answered as safely and truthfully as I could.

“I don’t know, your majesty.” I responded, a profound hush fell over the audience. The raid of Banias and the death of Humphrey of Toron seemed a footnote in the comprehensive monotony of my  _ Oxford History _ textbook. It seemed childish, but were it not for the man’s name, I wouldn’t have noticed the details at all. I wouldn’t have even remembered it.

“That's a more ample answer than you think, Susana.” The King spoke reassuringly “The Lord gives us intuition that we may use to make wise or just decisions. I thank you for using yours to save the life of a good and just man.”

He paused and spoke in whispers with his sister. By now it was evident that I was not to be punished, and this trial was more of a formality.

“Aside from potential espionage, another possible charge of yours was trespassing into the Holy Sepulchre, which father Athanasius has relieved you of.” He nodded, glancing back at whom I assumed to be Reynard some distance behind me “The summarization of your imprisonment indicates good behavior, save for the healing of a sick inmate with.. Your own meal, why?”

“He was sick, your majesty, and he needed more nourishment than bread alone in order to recover.” 

“There were two thieves at Christ’s crucifixion” Sybilla mentioned “One Penitent and One who denied Christ’s goodness. Which was the thief that you helped?”

“I don’t claim to know all that are in men’s hearts. Stealing is wrong, but he stole bread, nothing of great monetary value. He was clearly struggling to survive. I can only hope that the thief I saved from a slow, wasting death will remember Christ’s teachings for the remainder of his life.” I felt passionate in my defense for saving the prisoner, I hoped there was enough empathy in the audience to not incriminate me as some enabler of crime.

“The baker he stole from has campaigned strongly for his execution, his trial will be held next week.” Sybilla turned to the King “Perhaps we can come to an agreement?” The two spoke to each other in French for what seemed like an hour. I had hoped that the man would be forgiven in some way, but understood that given the apparent power of the Bakers, my hope that he was a good person at heart meant nothing. At least I had made him more comfortable in his last days.

Shadow’s cast on The King’s mask seemed to change expression as he turned his head toward and away from the windows. He looked deceptively stern when he and Sybilla finally emerged from their conversation to face me.

“Susana Gentile, under my authority as the sole Monarch of the Kingdom of Jerusalem, I hereby declare you not guilty of espionage, nor trespassing, nor incitement of crime. You are free to come and go as you please.” He declared loudly, following the statement with a more soft-spoken request “In addition, Sybilla and I request an audience with you later tonight over supper, will you accept this invitation?”

“Yes!” I responded excitedly, elated after hearing my pardon. “Excuse me, I mean yes, of course, My Lady, your Majesty.” I bowed once again, a proper curtsy this time. 

“We look forward to it.” He stated, waving a sort of dismissal of the court and a call for guards to safely escort his sister and himself. They both exited the stage from the side, accompanied by several crusader soldiers. Guy de Lusignan led them, Reynard was at the flank. He smiled at me encouragingly from behind his ginger beard as he exited with the two royals.

“Susana!” called Athanasius behind me, It was nice to see him again, especially as he wore a large, bright smile across his round, dark face. In his hand he clutched something large made of leather- my handbag that I had when I had moved between my own time and the past. The familiar scent of thrifted hide grounded me after the high of my final judgement. He handed it over to me and gave me a hug while laughing. “I prayed for your well being every night”

“Thank you, father.” I hugged him back, “I don’t know anyone here, it means so much to me that someone cared this much about an outsider.” I felt tears well up in my eyes. I was afraid when I had first gone back in time, but just as it was in 1968, there was a lot of evil and uncertainty in the world, but there were also good people to inspire and encourage others..

“You poor girl, you must be exhausted. We are overwhelmed with poor relief at the moment, but his Majesty agreed to set aside a room for you somewhere in the castle.” He leaned in to whisper something to me “I didn’t tell them about this bag, only Reynard and Bartolomeu know because I trust them.”

“Were they looking for my things?” I asked, surprised. I had not even considered why they had not asked about the array of modern objects I brought with me through time. I was even more surprised that the priest trusted Bartolomeu enough to not accuse him of withholding evidence from the King himself.

“The investigators never asked for any personal effects, so I kept quiet about it.” He chuckled “Best not to mention it, though. Just in case”

“Thank you again, father.” I clutched the bag close to my chest “I will likely come to the Sepulchre this afternoon, if that is fine by you. I was curious about the room you found me in, I wasn’t able to study it properly when I last visited”

“Ah, that is a coronation chamber created around the time of Constantine. It is no longer in use, of course” It made sense, the mosaic had a strong resemblance to the Cosmati pavement in Westminster Abbey that had been used to coronate British Monarchs since around the 11th century. But the chamber was unusual, as Constantine had lived centuries before the Cosmati pavement was ever conceived. 

“I must make my way back soon, though. You are always welcome with us, Susana. I would invite you to stay but we are currently overburdened with poor relief, and the King and Princess have already arranged quarters for you here in the castle.”

Interesting, two prime movers in Jerusalem’s history had invited me for a sleepover even before I had been declared innocent. Again, I did not agree with the imbalanced methods of the trial, but everything seemed to take one interesting turn after another. I bid Athanasius one more goodbye and left the courtroom. Bartolomeu was waiting outside for me in the same place we parted ways, as unenthused as ever.

“Heard you’re not gonna be executed, that’s good.” he said dismissively. “Anyway, I have to escort you to your room, you’re a guest here now.”

“Thanks, Bartolomeu.”

“Mmrr.” he grumbled in response.

\---

The room was made of stone masonry all around, with a single glass window, a simple wooden table, and what appeared to be a barely-used bed. I was ecstatic, It was not nearly as comfortable as the beds of my time, but it was heaven compared to the bench I had been sleeping on in prison. It was covered in beautiful covers, and lined with soft, clean linens. I wanted to lay between the sheets for hours, but I knew I had to make my way back to the Sepulchre.

I quickly took inventory of everything I had in my bag, I knew that arriving in Modern Jerusalem would be insanity, I was a foreign student that had been missing for a week, and would need identification when I returned. I emptied my bag by turning it upside down; textbook, sunglasses, hat, planner, a mess of trail mix from an opened bag come undone all came pouring out. Everything was in there except the flashlight I had broken. A heavy, dense bulge dragged the fabric that lined the inside of the bag out with it.

I knew there was a tear inside my bag that things got stuck inside of, but I had not realized my Mother’s Orthodox Cross that I had thought lost was inside the bag until I wriggled it out of the tear. 

I sighed, playing with the fake gold chain that held the ornate, real gold cross. It had been over a decade since she died, but I felt my mother’s presence every time I examined the familiar ridges of the cross she always wore, even after converting to Catholicism. The garnet gem that had once been fastened to the center of the cross was missing. I ruled out it being stolen since the cross was hidden, the gold was more valuable than the single jewel, and that Athanasius seemed like an honest man.

I looked around my bag, turning it inside out looking for the garnet. I crawled around the floor looking for a faint glimmer. Nothing. It was fine, I could get it replaced back home, I had the cross itself, and that was enough.

I went to the table, there were a few writing utensils on the desk, further proof that this room was clearly meant to host the elite. I struggled with the quill and ink vial a bit before getting the hang of it. Hopefully my poor writing would not be preserved in the church archives for me to unfortunately come across again a millennium from now.

_ Father Athanasius, _

_ I thank you for your kindness. Please extend my thanks to Reynard and Bartolomeu as well. I cannot stay here. It may be hard for you to understand, but I am from another place in time. I am not supposed to be here, and if you are reading this, I am home. Live long, and may the Lord bless you and keep you.  
_

_ Susana _

I folded up the note and hid it in my sleeve. If I had left it in my bag, I would have forgotten it. It was a little after mid-day now. I grabbed a folded up linen from the dresser and covered my head with it. I wanted to block out the sun, and wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses was an easy way of getting back the unwanted attention I had just been rid of. I slipped my mother’s cross over my head and concealed the cross itself under the front of my dress. I was ready to go.

As quietly as I could, I left the castle with my bag clutched close to my body. I remembered the path I took through the old city vividly, in terms of major streets, not much has changed. I came across different people on the street, by now I was at least able to say “Hello” in nearly every local dialect. I tried to appear in a hurry, however, I did not want anyone to try and stop me for discussion during the mid-day lull of the streets and local businesses.

Outside the church of the Holy Sepulchre were several poor, mainly women and children. Athanasius was right, the church was overburdened. One woman, much older, sat barefoot on the corner. Her feet were covered in blisters from walking around in the hot sun, and her face had been damaged by years of exposure.

She didn’t seem to notice me until I took the linen off of my head, I folded it into a square and tucked it under my arm as I took off my little brown shoes and removed the sand and dust from them by knocking them together.

“For you” I said in English, handing her the shoes and linen I no longer needed. She gave me a closed smile and said something that sounded thankful. I smiled back at her and walked through the open entrance into the church, quickly finding the Chapel of St. Helena. Father Athanasius was nowhere to be seen, and the clergy that was present seemed to pay little mind to the strange, barefoot woman with a fancy dress trotting through the halls.

The door to the chamber opened with ease, no locks whatsoever. I felt a rush of Adrenaline, after a week of uncertainty, I felt that I was finally able to go home. The scholar in me would like to stay and study what life was like during this time, for the common man. Perhaps I could have bought a copy of William of Tyre’s lost historical texts and become famous in my own time for it, but I knew my family must be looking for me. Moreover, I wasn’t exactly mentally prepared to live hundreds of years in the past.

I raced down the stone stairs as quickly as I could. This place was well-tended, the flames from burning candles that lined the walls fluttered as I dashed by, gaining speed from gravity. Additional light crept in from the upstairs area, mid day hours ushering beams of light in from the windows towards the cracks in the old wooden door.

At last, I reached the mosaic. I fell to my knees, I tried to replicate every motion I could remember making before my journey to this time. I rubbed my hands over every detail of the mosaic until they had turned grey with unswept dust. I wiped it off on my dress, which was already dirty for the same reason. Unable to pinpoint a single sweet spot on the mosaic that could move me. I pressed my hands against each circle, nothing. The silliest thing I did was look around for some kind of writing on the wall, a riddle of some sort that could help me solve this ridiculous puzzle. There was nothing.

_ “Wasn’t it dark when I came here? _ ” I thought to myself. I got back up, walked to the top of the stairs, and blew every candle out on the way back down. It must be about half past three now, in Spring. The few sunbeams that interrupted the pitch darkness would be disappearing soon. I remembered I had backed myself up against the stairs several times, and heard some kind of humming. I alternated between moving around the mosaic on the floor and curling up against the wall. I waited to hear a sound that tipped off the strange magic that had brought me here. Nothing.

Growing desperate, I tried to replicate falling to my knees again and again. I began to cry as it grew just as dark as I remembered it was the night I disappeared.

“Mama, please help me, God, if you’re there, please help me. I want to go home” I choked out more prayers for help “Daddy is all alone at home, in the future. Charlie has gone to fight in the war. He shouldn’t have to worry about me. Please, please bring me back. Make it hurt more than it did last time, just bring me back.”

Even if I heard the humming sounds I did before, it wouldn’t have been nearly as loud as the heavy, overwhelming silence that followed each desperate prayer I made.

“Are you there at all, God? Even in the Holy Land? Even here in Golgotha?” My tears began to still. I stopped praying and got off my knees, and off of the mosaic. I didn’t want to accept that I was going to die here. I tried to remove emotion from the matter altogether. My existence had to depend on a willingness to survive in an unfamiliar and volatile region.

I ascended the stairs, my knees were weak, and my feet were not bothered by the cold stone surface. I desperately wanted to throw my bag off of my shoulders, it felt like an oppressive weight trying to drag me back down into the darkness.

When I walked through the door, I emerged to a nun walking by quickly carrying a basket of apples, it took me a moment to realize that this was the same mousy nun that had given me sister Gianna’s clothes.

“Oh! Its you!” she beamed, reaching into the basket for an apple and handing it to me with her tiny hands. I shook my head.

“No, thank you.” I muttered, closing the door behind me slowly.

“I’m Sister Heloise by the way” she was really sweet, I almost felt bad that I was in such a sour mood. “I’m glad things went well at your trial, father Athanasius told us all about it. I would have done the same thing for that prisoner by the way.”

“Thanks” I gave a gloomy, forced smile, hoping that she’d dismiss, but she continued.

“I mean, look all around you. I help poor people every day, many of them have had to break a few laws to survive and help their families. The Lord believes in second chances, and only he can judge our hearts in the end.”

_ “The Lord believes in second chances, I’ll be waiting for mine then.” _ I concurred in my head. My only second chance now was to survive, and to not seem like I was afraid of this world.

“Thank you, Heloise. I need to leave now, though. I have an appointment.”

“Have a good night Susana, I hope that I will see you again!”

I stepped outside and dusted off my dress. It was still tinted grey, but that was good enough. I was also barefoot. Thankfully Heloise did not notice, she seemed the fussy type and may have tried to dig up something else for me.

I was not going home any time soon. I was trapped in the twelfth century and my father and brother were probably very worried. My best chance now was to fake confidence and get by. This place was not so bad, I have been treated with relative kindness. I could survive here until I found a way to reverse my journey.  


Barefoot and dirty, I walked to meet with King Baldwin IV and Princess Sybilla, the two most important people in Jerusalem. I whistled the tune of a song I remembered from  _ The King and I _ , deeming it almost fitting for the situation I was in.

 

_ For when I fool the people I fear  _

_ I fool myself as well _


	4. The Past and the Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suzanne returns to the castle to meet King Baldwin and Sybilla. She ends up only dining with the former. Its stressful, but he's pretty choice. (Short Chapter)

When I arrived back at Jaffa, things seemed even more quiet than before, compared to the endless markets I had passed through. I was ignored as I re entered the fortress by nearly every guard, even as dozens of them hung around the various entrances. It wasn’t until a small, stout chambermaid saw me that anyone made a fuss. She looked at my dress and took my hand, ranting in Greek. Evidently, she had been waiting for me.

She forcefully undressed me until I wore only my necklace, and ushered me into a tub of what appeared to be lukewarm, used bathwater. It was extremely uncomfortable, but I knew she was merely trying to clean off the grime my knees had accumulated in my failed pursuit to travel back to my own time. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the paper note that had been intended for Athanasius. I did not stare at it too long, as I did not want the chambermaid to collect it. Thankfully, she seemed too caught up in her ranting to pay it any mind, but I knew I had to collect it. At one point, another chambermaid walked in, the one bathing me barked a command in Greek to her, and she began removing the dirt from the dress with some kind of elongated whisk-brush.

“Out, Dry.” The chambermaid commanded in her best Latin. I did as she asked. There was not much drying needed, my hair was untouched, and it was primarily my arms and legs that had been rinsed with someone’s leftover bathwater. I patted it off with a linen folded beside the tub and worked my way back into my shift and dress. The other chambermaid left briefly and returned with a pair of pointed white silk slippers. I hoped that these did not belong the the countess or anyone important, if they did, my chastisement for playing in the dirt was gonna be more than the help’s frustration.

The chambermaid seemed satisfied with herself. “Clean now. Stay that way.” She requested as best she could in Latin as she brushed loose strands of my dark hair back behind my ear, and pulled my cross out so that it hung just below the neckline of my dress.“ _Go Go Go! The King!_ ”

“Wait, what is your name?” She didn’t seem to expect or appreciate me asking, but answered quickly as she turned to leave.

“Eugenia”

“Thank you, Eugenia”

\---

King Baldwin had arranged for our meal in a part of the palace that overlooked the Mediterranean. It was dusk now. I was exhausted from the days events, and excited to eat a real, hot meal. I thought that I had arrived early, as the dining hall was completely empty save for the two soldiers that stood at either side.

I walked onto the balcony and leaned against the grey marble Balustrade. From above, I could see the last of the fishing boats and trade vessels close up for the evening, working men from many nations reclining by the sea over fire pits preparing their dinners. I wondered what they were talking about, and if they missed their families as much as I missed mine. I wondered what I would hear if I could speak their language. If I was to stay in this time for a long while, I knew I would have to learn to speak more than just Classical-Colloquial hybridized Latin.

I stared past the orange, setting sun. The breeze picked up and hummed past my ears. I knew that somewhere beyond the horizon were the Americas. I thought even further, of California, and of the breeze that came off of the Pacific ocean when the waves were at their highest. I knew it was somewhere out there, natural and pure, to only be enjoyed and revered by the natives for a few hundred more years.

I was so deep in nostalgia I did not even hear the latch to the door close as the King entered the dining hall.

“Good evening” I heard a soft, familiar voice.

“Your majesty” I curtsied. “Pardon me, I didn’t hear you come in, I hope I am not too early.”

“Not at all, I was running a bit late.” He walked with a cane he did not have as he left the court earlier that day. He was pretty tall, around six feet even, which was impressive given the time period and his condition. He sat down at the nearest end of the table, crossing his hands over his cane. “As I mentioned earlier, my mother is here, and she was adamant in meeting once more with my sister, nephew and the man who interrupted the trial earlier, Guy de Lusignan. I will be representing Sybilla in her inquiry tonight.”

“I suppose it's just us, then?” I responded as politely as I could “Sybilla is an intelligent woman, I regret that she cannot join us, but I am honored that the both of you would have me.”

I eyed the chair at the other end of the table, It was not terribly long, but I worried that the hum of the breeze would mute our ability to hear each other. Perhaps he sensed my uncertainty, as he pulled out the chair immediately to his left and beckoned me to sit on it.

“Thank you, your majesty.” Normally, this might feel uncomfortably close to a stranger, but surprisingly the King’s presence was anything but uncomfortable. Had I lived here all my life, I might even feel relaxed.

“Does a King showing gallantry to an outsider surprise you?” He asked. My anxiousness must have betrayed me. Being so near to the King with armed, loyal soldiers in the same room had dried my throat. I focused extra hard to speak proper Latin.

“A bit, there are no monarchs in Florence, I always imagined a king as being less interactive with strangers than you are.”

Three knocks at the door introduced our meals, which ended up being only one meal.

“I’m afraid I will not be eating, myself. I hope you do not think me rude, I no longer have an appetite after meeting with my mother.”

“Not at all, so long as you don’t take offense to my outlandish eating habits.” I realized I had never learned how to eat with favorable table manners. I only knew the very basics of not talking while chewing, and keeping one's elbows off the table. I had never been as excited to eat as I had been upon seeing the baked fish and fresh bread on silver plate that had been placed front of me.  Hopefully I could get away with scarfing down food if I covered my mouth as I did it.

I said grace quietly and quickly “ _Il Re dell’eterna gloria ci faccia partecipi della mensa celeste. Amen._ ” My father would have lambasted me for the pronunciation, but hopefully the King of Jerusalem would not notice.

“Not at all, you come from different customs. I understand” He responded reassuringly “But in response to your statement, my choice to acknowledge your warning and oversee your hearing was not random. My sister sometimes has dreams, one of which involved your arrival, and the truth and foresight you would bring with you. She disclosed this with me before I left.”

“Sybilla’s name, how fitting, the Sybils were Greek Oracles”. Moving back in time was weird, but even more weird was knowing I was expected. “I don’t know what to say, but is premonition why you seemed so certain of my case?”

“I trust Sybilla’s judgement. All witnesses to your allegations testified heavily in your favor, and you overall did not look or sound like one who would come to Jerusalem to subvert it.”

“I mean no offense, your majesty, but don’t you think that's wrong?”

“You stand before me, innocent of all charges, how could it be wrong?”

“To judge me based on my family history, and the way I look. A fair trial should be based on concrete evidence.”

“There was evidence, the clergy did not denounce you, things are settled with the bakers and there was no evidence as to you being an Arab spy”

“If I were a poor man who spoke Arabic rather than Latin, would you have been so confident of my innocence?”

He rested his jaw on one hand, deep in thought for a moment “You have given me something to think deeply about, Susana. Thank you.”

“I hope it serves some purpose. But you have not invited me to stay here to meditate on a trial that is said and done.” I followed up, struggling to sound engaging rather than aggressive, even as I shoved mouthfuls of fish and bread into my mouth in between my conversational turns. Mercifully, the fish had been de-boned by its preparer, if I was going to die here, it wouldn’t be by choking.

“You’re correct, if you are looking for work in the Holy City, my sister has offered you a position as a tutor to her and my nephew.”

“A tutor?” I almost did choke that time. “Royalty? What could I possibly have to teach her?”

“She wants to improve her written Latin, as she may find herself to be Dowager Queen in a few short years. She also wants her son to develop fluency at a young age. I’m sure you’ve already observed, but the majority of Jerusalem does not speak French.”

“I’ve tutored children before, but not Princesses.” At last, there was nothing of my meal left to worry about. I folded my hands in my lap. “I’m not certain I can meet such standards”

He leaned in closer, my heart began to race. “You humble yourself, Susana. I believe you have more talents than you let on. The Lord guided you here for a reason.”

“I accept, then. Your Majesty. I appreciate your vote of confidence.” If I was going to be realistic about surviving, I had to take every opportunity I could, no matter how insane it seemed.

“Come now, you shall be paid well, receive three meals a day, and the quarters you stay in tonight shall remain yours for the duration of your employment. The terms shall be negotiated by Sybilla personally tomorrow morning, as your payment shall come from Ascalon’s treasury.”

“If possible, I would like to use that money for a tutor of my own. I would like to learn Greek.”

“How curious, what for?”

“It is as you said, French is not commonly spoken in the city. It is the same with Italian and Latin, I would like to know a more common dialect if I am to remain here.”

“If that is your wish, I will send for an instructor in the morning. You must be exhausted, Susana, if you are finished eating, you are free to retire for the evening.”

“That is too kind, your majesty, thank you for the conversation.”

“Hopefully we sh- “ He was interrupted as he slipped in an attempt to stand up from his chair. Unable to catch himself on his cane, I caught him instead. The sight must have spooked the guards, as they quickly drew themselves to attention before realizing that I was merely helping him.

“ _Oh Fuck!_ ” I swore in English as I threw his arm over my shoulders, helping him regain his balance.

“It seems I am still recuperating from the battle. I’m sorry about that” He sounded as if he was smiling under his mask, perhaps slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t be sorry for sacrificing so much just to ride alongside your men.” I tried to reassure him, he seemed taken back by my statement. I might have failed at not seeming aggressive. “Now i’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I didn’t mean-”

“Deterioration is a presence in every memory of my lifetime, just as it is that I must someday die, it is also so that I am a Leper. Mentioning it could not possibly offend me.” the gentle lull of his voice proved that he was sincere, and that there was no offense taken. I wasn’t able to respond. I still felt guilty, but my admiration of him had stayed my tongue just as much as fear of reprieve did.

“I will go now. _Bonne Nuit_ , Susana. Hopefully we shall speak again soon” He finished the sentence he was unable to before falling.

"Will you be safe getting to your quarters?" I asked, truly concerned given how hard the floors throughout the castle were.

"Like you, I will be escorted to my quarters by guards. Hopefully they can match your quickness and brawn if my body fails me again."

"Good night, your majesty"

A guard graciously escorted me to my room, which was in an entirely different wing of the building. I entered to find a fire was left burning in the fireplace. The lumber seemed a waste of resources given its scarcity in this land, but the heat it gave in the cooling air was too pleasant to deny.

For an hour or so I sat in front of the fireplace thinking. I thought about Charlie, I wondered if the government was going to leave Vietnam and avoid needless bloodshed. I wondered if Gabe was helping to look for me, and if Tasha was still wasting her time with men that didn’t respect her. I wondered how Papa was dealing with the Israeli government’s investigation- or was it Palestine? I wondered if I would ever go home and answers these questions. I wondered if I would survive long enough to understand why and how I was here.

Eventually, exhaustion got the better of me and I collapsed into my warm, real bed. I thought of almost everything that night, save for the note to Athanasius I had dropped and forgotten as I prepared to meet the King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually impressed this story has gotten any attention at all, but i'm thrilled there are people that like it! I'm having a lot of fun writing it so far, and i'm currently mapping out substories for other characters (Every character I introduce will be significant later on). Thanks for stopping by!


	5. The Subject I Love Most

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I've now become an expert  
> On the subject I like most,  
> Getting to know you"

Whatever it was about this place, It was unlikely that I could wake up late. Everything in this palace ran exactly on schedule. I must have awoken around 6 in the morning. There was no washing basin in my room, but I understood that there was a bathing room near the courtyard the window of my room overlooked. I wrapped my hair in a headscarf and made my way downstairs. The courtyard resembled the peristylum of a Roman villa, a vast, open area with oriental archways. Areas that were enclosed were given their privacy by layers of richly-colored fabric. Small patches of garden hosted flowers that perfumed the air.

“ _Home_ ” I thought to myself, remembering the bloom of grasslands overlooking the seaside canyons of California. I had spent so long in prison that the open-air architecture of Jerusalem was, literally and figuratively, a breath of fresh air.

From across the raised bed of flowers, the princess Sybilla emerged from, she was dressed in fine red-gold clothing, her hair wrapped up in a white headscarf with small golden disks dangling from it. She seemed please to see me.

“Do you like them?” She asked “They are called _Shoshannah_ in Hebrew, the origin of your name, actually. Its funny, my own mother can’t stand them, but rumor has it Saladin is partial to them.”

“They’re beautiful” I replied, gently stroking the curled, tender white petals. “This place is beautiful”

“You’re too kind, it's all mine as of a few years ago. But come now, I presume you have come looking for the _Therma_. Let us bathe before we break our fasts.”

She took me by the arm and led me to a room concealed with billowing red tapestries and fabric. There were four bathing pools total, two of which seemed to have been recently heated with boiling water as steam danced off of the surface. At first I felt shy undressing before such a powerful woman, but her own confidence in removing her coverage and releasing her hair inspired my own. I had to keep myself from staring, she was very beautiful, tall and shapely with a subtle aquiline nose, dark auburn hair, and fair skin that was maintained by the thick coverage she always wore in the desert.

“Pardon me, but am I allowed to use these baths regularly, My Lady?” I asked

“Yes, all women who live or work in the castle are permitted to use its bathing amenities, don’t worry about privacy, the men have their own.”

“I can’t imagine it smells as great as this one” I jested as I immersed myself into the warm pool of water, floating petals of Peony tickling my flesh as I did so.

Sybilla snickered “No, and hopefully I don’t have to find out”

She reached for a cube wrapped in cheesecloth and twine, she unbound it and broke off a piece of chunky black soap and handed it to me. “Help with my hair and back?” She requested.

“Of course, My Lady” I accepted the strange-looking soap and the cheesecloth.

“Sybilla is fine when it's just us, Susana. We will be spending a lot of time together. I understand my brother has disclosed the terms of your employment?”

“The basics, mainly that you wish to learn how to write in Latin.” I used the bar directly on her hair and the back of her neck, creating a lather. The soap smelled of oranges.

“I would also enjoy having a comprehensive tutor, in everything regarding geography, philosophy, mathematics.. Perhaps medicine?”

“I don’t have any expertise as a physician, but I can learn and interpret the knowledge if you are interested.”

“The most advanced medical texts are imported from Anatolia and the Orient, you will find them with specialized dealers in the marketplace. Those expenses I will cover. I am, however, interested in how you managed to cure a prisoner of his sailor’s affliction. I have heard of it happening in port cities, with doctors being unable to help.”

“What he had is a disease common among sailors, it comes from a lack of access to citric fruits while at sea for long periods of time.” I held up the bar of soap I had been using to wash her hair “Take for example, the orange fruit used to fragrance this soap.”

“I shall publicize this to avoid any more unnecessary death, then.” Sibylla sighed “I’m only sorry I did not know this sooner, so many men have failed to return home because of it.”

“It isn’t your fault, Sibylla. It isn’t widely known, yet.” I responded. The bath was cooling, we both stepped out of the pool and patted ourselves dry.

“I wonder what other horrid afflictions could be so easily cured.” She contemplated as she got dressed. I knew she was talking about her brother. I recalled what his majesty had told me the previous night regarding Sybilla’s gift of foresight. There was no way to ask such a question directly, but I wondered if she imagined I could help him.

That would mean changing history. Could it be done? I had already saved Humphrey from an untimely death, and I may have just introduced a cure for scurvy.

\---

My first session in tutoring Sibylla and her son went well. Initially, _Baudouinet_ hid behind his mother’s skirt. I got on my knees to meet him at eye level before he began to trust me. He was a cute boy, with flaxen blonde hair, round blue eyes, and a narrow face. He was merely three, but seemed to grasp Latin fairly quickly. I started how I remember my cousins starting, with shapes and animals. I made a note to prepare a lesson plan later that night, and encouraged Sibylla to read him one of Aesop’s fables each night before bedtime. After a four-to-five hour session with Baudouinet, I began a trial session with Sybilla.

“How much do you know about the Orient?”

“I can point out Libya, Babylon.” The further east she went on the awkwardly-cartographed map, the more uncertain she seemed “I believe these are the Turkish lands.. And.. I forget the name of this region.”

“That is a land called China, the imperial dynasty that rules it is called the Song. Major items of trade include silk, jade, and porcelain. Major cultural groups in the area include the han, manchurians, turks and mongolians.”

I noticed that I had lost Sibylla’s attention, her smoky green eyes were staring at something over my shoulder. I looked behind me to see a little girl in a blue and yellow dress and a matching, striped bonnet.

“Isabella, come here darling, don’t be shy.”

The girl appeared to be around seven or eight years old with short, curly blonde hair.

“Susana, this is my younger sister by my father, Isabella. Isabella, this is Susana, a scholar from Florence.”

“Its a pleasure to meet you, your highness.” I got on one knee and bowed my head.

“I heard Sybilla had a girl teaching her and wanted to see” she said sweetly.

“Stay awhile, _Belle_. I didn’t realize you were here, whom does mother have teaching you?” Sybilla asked, beckoning Isabella onto an empty seat next to her.

“Agnes says William can’t teach me here anymore. She says I wont marry a man important enough to know all that.”

Sibylla frowned and looked at me longingly. Sybilla’s hand in marriage was in high demand to any man that wanted power, as she would be Queen Dowager and regent to her son in a few short years. She was also Agnes of Courtenay’s daughter by blood, whereas Isabella was a child of Amalric’s second marriage.

“Knowledge benefits everyone, your highness. Would you like to take lessons with Sybilla while you are here?”

“ _Yes Yes Yes!_ ” She chanted, mimicking the cries of reverie during court. “ _Yes Yes Yes!_ ”

“ _Che Bello!_ Lets begin with Charlemagne and Clovis.”

\---

Altogether, I worked roughly ten hours a day teaching the heir apparent and two princesses. I put breaks in between every two hours, to avoid overworking my students, and myself. I felt like a medieval Anna Leonowens teaching my own triad of Siamese children. I was getting to know the family a little better with each session.

In the evenings, I would receive an education of my own. My instructor was a young man from Arabia, which had not surprised me given the Arabians' taste for travel. He sported a full beard and a full head of shiny black hair.

“ _Salaam Alaikum_ , Susana!” He firmly shook my right hand upon first meeting outside the castle “My name is Ali, I understand you wish you learn Greek?”

“ _Alaikum Salaam_ , Ali!” I grinned from ear to ear, excited by his energy. “Yes, I plan on staying in Jerusalem for awhile, I would like to learn how to speak the language of the majority.”

“The majority of this region, or the majority of Jerusalem itself?” He asked “I heard a lot of greek when I arrived here, but most of the old city speaks Arabic, Ive noticed french growing in proportion to the european refugee population, too.”

Of course, he was right. I hadn’t traveled around the city enough, or i’d know that the Arabic-speaking population was still the majority after 100 years of European dominion.

“Do you think… That I could learn both?”

“Oh, Susana, Susana” He clapped his hands together “With _me_ as your teacher, we can absolutely manage both.”

\---

My days consisted of teaching and being taught. After tutoring my students in the morning, I would spend 4 hours or so with Ali learning Greek and Arabic. He gave me two packets of handwritten worksheets to practice reading and writing with, but also encouraged me to make use of anything in Jaffa’s library. I enjoyed studying, and writing gave me plenty of time to practice not sucking at using a quill. I had always been told not to try and learn two languages at once, and I found it exceptionally difficult to learn it through Latin, but merely switching my brain between the two made it more manageable.

That Saturday night, after planning the Prince and Princess’s lessons for the next few weeks, I stayed up late in the countess’ private library studying or reading by candlelight. I usually studied until I was tired enough to fall asleep, as studying kept my mind from homesickness and longing for my family. Illustrated manuscripts in particular were helpful, as imagery helped me connect certain words to their meanings.

I fell asleep over one of my Arabic worksheets. I was awoke at some point past midnight by a nudge on the shoulder. I jolted awake, nearly knocking the diminishing stub of a candle to the floor. My hair had been completely loose and spread about me, I had been mere centimeters from a fiery disaster.

I gathered myself, only too look up to see a tall silhouette in an easily-recognizable silver mask standing above me.

“Y-y-your majesty” I quickly jumped out of my chair and bowed, renewed adrenaline knocking every ounce of grogginess from my head. “I’m so sorry, I must have been up too late” I exclaimed.

“Don’t apologize, I deeply appreciate all the work you’ve done. I envy that you could fall asleep anywhere other than a bed”

“It's a talent I developed studying for examinations” I wrung my hands together nervously “I could sometimes only work in one or two hours of sleep at a time. Making my way back to my quarters would have taken too much time.”

He looked at the worksheet I had on the table, I felt a sudden jolt of fear rise up. I half expected him to scold me for learning the enemy’s language, but his reaction was incredibly positive.

“It's good that you are learning Arabic, there are still many Arabic texts from old and contemporary philosophers that have yet to be translated and copied. Ah, but ism sorry for interrupting your rest, I myself cannot sleep tonight.”

“What brought you to the library, your majesty?”

Baldwin stood up and walked towards the second set of shelves to my left. He pulled out a leather bound book embossed with the title of _Chanson de Roland_.

“That's the _Song of Roland!”_ My voice picked up. The Epic Poem told a story about Charlemagne’s nephew, Roland, at the battle of Roncevaux Pass. The battle was Roland’s last in an enduring military campaign against an Islamic presence in Spain.

“Its a French copy, so I’m afraid you might not enjoy it, but it's always been one of my favorites.” He grabbed a taper stick from a small pot on the desk and drew fire from the burning candle, lighting two others to create more light in the room. The orange votive light of the candles reflected off of his mask in dancing blurs.

“Honor and Justice will prevail over all, God wills it.” I lamented the idea that ‘Justice’ had to be the cyclical violence that would survive into my own time.

“God’s will is the sacrifice of the valiant soaking the earth to its core, in order to protect the defenseless. This is the duty of every noble and man-at-arms in this city. The _chanson_ is sobering, for better or for worse, it reminds me of my God-given purpose.” He cracked the tome about midway through the book and read by the light of a nearby candelabra.

“Do you..” I paused for a moment “Do you think that there can be peace between you and Saladin?”

“How curious for a woman outside of politics to ask such a question.” He responded amusedly

“Jerusalem is my home now, too. I’m sure every woman in the city wonders the same, whose husbands and sons are being sacrificed in war, after all?”

“I meant no offense, i’m pleased to know that every citizen is concerned.” He tried to summarize his feelings towards the adversary, Well, Saladin has managed to unite a fragmented people under one banner without violence, he has also actively negotiated with me in ensuring safe passage for Muslim and Christian citizens. He has shown nothing but honor and capability in each battle i’ve led against him. He is no brutish warlord, but he is highly motivated to annex any area he wants, be it Christian or Muslim Majority.”

“If he is open to negotiations that could safeguard the people, why have they not been honored?”

“Because there is great carelessness among the calvary, and even among our own Templars.” He bemoaned “Both are quick to begin shedding blood in the villages, but few care or value the lives of within. Despite this, when there are civilian casualties, it fuels resentment.”

“And that is why there is no peace..” I answered sadly. I was just as guilty of being uninformed as the soldiers. I had read, dogeared and annotated various chapters of my _Oxford History_ textbook over and over, but its lack of wisdom on the ground was glaring. I acknowledged I knew very little about the lives and demographics of high-risk territories for the small kingdom.“But what is currently being done to expedite evacuations of battle grounds and aid the refugees?”

“Our most pressing concern in minimizing civilian impact is logistics. We oftentimes cannot pinpoint exactly when a battle will begin, particularly if there is a language barrier between both armies. Time is of the essence, and when the enemy is spotted, there is no quick and reliable way to alert villagers. The desert is a buffer for any means of communication with regional leaders.”

I pulled out a blank sheet of paper from behind my worksheet and a piece of charcoal I kept at my side for when I struggled with a quill.

“Your majesty, if I propose something, will you.. Uh.. take it seriously?”

He tilted his head “You are an intelligent woman. I’ve no reason to _not_ consider anything you say, show me.”

Amplified by the flattery, I sketched out each major region of Jerusalem, complete with the Arab border. I then drew a secondary, dotted line near areas that feasibly had oasis. After I finished, I shook the paper of excess charcoal and presented it to him, handing him my chamberstick so that he may use the candlelight.

“We may be able to extend this as far north with the approval of Antioch and Tripoli, but for now I will focus on Jerusalem itself.” I cleared my throat, using my neglected quill as a visual guide. I focused myself so that my Latin would make complete sense.

“What i’m proposing is a relay system for correspondence along a single pathway. If we set up a base every 25 miles in which the previous rider trades off his delivery to the next, we can have messages running at full speed. A horse can run at full speed for roughly 30 miles.”

Baldwin picked up the map, bringing it close to his face and candle light. “You are right” he responded “This is a rough sketch”

Well, he didn’t hire me as a cartographer.

“..And if we can secure a reliable water source every 25 miles, there is no reason for this not to work.”

It wasn’t my idea, it was the model for the Pony Express, the fastest early mail system in colonial american history. The nonstop riding made it possible for mail to cross 1500 miles in 10 days, it was a simple idea, but it was revolutionary for the continent.

“Yes.. I can see it now. And we can even add forks in the path here, and maybe here in.. I think this is supposed to be Caesaria?”

“I’m not one of the artistic Italians, your majesty. I hope that doesn’t disappoint you.”

“Oh, no.” He put the candle back on the desk and rolled up the lousy map I drew. “You’re in a class of your own. I’m far from disappointed”.

The face of his mask was unchanging, but there was more than enough heartfelt expression in his blue eyes alone, enough to break down the wall of silver that divided you as you spoke with him.

“I..Oh, I-” I caught a quick glimpse of the window and noticed a dull aqua light forming, indicating dawn. “Oh, Its so late, i’m so sorry your majesty. I’ve kept you from your reading..”

“And i’ve kept you from your rest. Allow me to walk you to your room, its along the way.”

His steps were slow but precise, any weakness showing during our first meeting over “supper” seemed to improve. He had a bit of a hunch, which seemed the only immediate challenge to his balance, even as he walked with both hands behind his back.

“I suppose it’s already Sunday now, will you accompany my family and I to mass this morning? You shall also meet Archbishop William, the man who tutored me. It is my last week in Jaffa before I am away to Jerusalem, it is there that I will present your relay to the court.”

“I’d absolutely love to” I replied, excitedly “Isabella and Baudouinet seem to be taking a liking to me.”

“So i’ve heard, Isabella was excited to have a ‘girl tutor’. I lament that she has to leave next week, as well, to her mother’s home in Nablus”

“ _Why did Agnes send for her to stay here, then?_ ” I wondered, choosing not to pry into private matters. I knew that Isabella would succeed Guy and Sybilla as queen, I knew it must have to do with the inheritance crisis.

“I’m sorry too.” I said aloud “She is a bright girl.”

“Here we are” Baldwin finally stopped in front of the wooden door of my room.

“Thank you, your majesty.” I was mesmerized by the reflectiveness of his mask, the warm, blotchy reflections of candlelight had been exchanged for the dull bluish-white reflection of the dawn and lingering moonlight.

“God keep you for the remainder of the night, Susana. I’ll see you after dawn.”

He departed. And I realized how quiet his footsteps were. I almost wanted to watch his white-clothed form disappear around the hallway like a beautiful, candle-carrying ghost.

It occurred to me that I was going to meet one of the greatest medieval chroniclers of all time in a few hours, William of Tyre. If I wasn’t so exhausted, i’d be humming with excitement.

I had so many questions to ask him, but my brain quickly drifted off to sleep. For what remained of that night, and for the first time in days, I did not dream of home. I dreamt of a crown, basic mathematics, and the courtyard lilies.

Sunday would mark the beginning of a new week, and a new chapter of my life in Jerusalem. I've had plenty of time to gain trust and proximity to the royal heirs of this kingdom, and even became an educator in the process. Due to the comforts it offered, I did not question my position much, but I would come to learn that others would, as they observed my progress from a distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Therma = A bath house, basically. A steamy kind.  
> *Baudouinet = The name I will be using for Baldwin V (Option 2 was 'Itty Bitty') to avoid confusion.
> 
> I hope the historical references aren't too much, I may start adding footnotes in the future so the whole thing doesn't seem too clustered. ^^


	6. The King and the Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susana attends mass and is confronted by Guy about her letter to Athanasius, Guy finds himself in trouble during a joust gone wrong with an unidentified knight that has it out for him and the King. Baldwin invites Susana horseback riding, and she tries her best.

“Make way for His Majesty, the King of Jerusalem!” Guy De Lusignan’s deep voice boomed at the front of the fellowship.

“ _Make Way, Make Way_!” Shouted two other, helmeted knights beside him. Both carried billowing white tapestries, with the scarlet cross of Jerusalem at their center.

The King himself rode on horseback at the very center, surrounded entirely by soldiers. Sibylla and various other noblemen rode near the back. The remainder of the court, myself included, walked on foot towards the chapel. I had new, leather shoes now, so I did not worry about ruining the material, but I found myself covering my face with my headscarf as we traveled as the horses kicked up enough dust to make my eyes water. 

I took every other opportunity to look out at the crowd to our sides. I noticed one group of children in rags following the procession excitedly, with no shoes of their own, and dusted feet that would not be able to touch the ground come the extreme heat of midday.

The church was not massive, but finely-decorated and luxe. It was likely a predecessor to the same Saint Peter’s church that would stand in 20th century Jaffa. It too overlooked the sea as Saint Peter’s would, and a golden icon of Saint Peter sat in wait over the door to greet us. I wondered what would become of this beautiful little place in the ages to come.

The service opened with an Ave Maria hymn, a stunning, polyphonic choral piece echoing throughout the little cathedral. “ _ My God _ ” I wondered. “ _ What  _ had  _ happened to this place? _ ” It was so small, but engineered to have the most stunning acoustics possible. Were it completely empty, you could have heard a pin drop from the other end of the building.

The Bishop ended the service with a communion of intinction, the dipping of unleavened bread into the ceremonial wine. I hesitated to admit I haven’t been to confession since I was about thirteen years old, and thus shouldn’t be receiving communion, but I went along with the group in receiving it, and hoped the good Lord would understand.

Following communion was a sort of noble social event. I knew very few of the people that attended mass here, so I walked around exploring the various relics of the church, mostly pieces meant to venerate the saints. The walls were decorated with mosaics of Saint Peter raising Jesus’ disciple, Tabitha, from the dead in this same city.

Guy de Lusignan stood beside me as I observed the detail of the mosaics. I tried not to notice until he cleared his throat.

“You’ve done quite well for yourself” 

I had a feeling that he didn’t like me, but responded so for politeness’ sake “Thank you, my Lord.”

“You’ve gone from prisoner to tutor of the Princess and future king of Jerusalem.”

“Yes, your wife and stepson are wonderful students, my Lord.”

“So.. Why do you want to leave?”

I finally turned to face him, emotionless, even as he unfolded the note I had written to Athanasius.

“ _ Father Athanasius”  _ He tried to imitate a feminine voice  _ “I thank you for your kindness. Please extend my thanks to Reynard and Bartolomeu as well. I cannot stay here. It may be hard for you to understand, but I am from  _ another place in time _. I am not supposed to be here, and if you are reading this, I am home. Live long, and may the Lord bless you and keep you. Signed, Susana.” _ His expression changed from amused to stern as he concluded “Now, whatever could all that mean?”

“My father sent for me, I considered going home, but didn’t. I work here, this is my home now.”

“Italy is not  _ another place in time _ , it is just over the sea.” He folded the paper, pressing it between both of his thumbs and forefingers, and held it before me. “I’m going to ask this only once, who are you?”

“I am Susana Gentile. I am a scholar from Florence who has come to learn and work in Jerusalem.” 

“Doctor, oracle, philosopher.. Most scholars that pass through here work for the clergy. Are you a physician?”

“I’ve meddled in alchemy.” I tried to be as blunt as possible “It's a multidisciplinary art.” I responded curtly, but he kept talking.

“Perhaps you should take a look at his Majesty then, he’s seen every physician in the land, but no alchemists.” He slipped the note beneath his jerkin, and made sure I saw him do it. “He doesn’t have much time left, or skin, i’m sure he’ll appreciatethe help.”

Jarred by his disrespect, I had just about summoned the nerve to bid him Good Day before the King approached the both of us, accompanied by an older gentleman wearing the red and white robes of an archbishop.

“Guy, I hope I am not interrupting. Susana, I’d like to introduce William, archbishop of Tyre, the man who mentored me from my childhood.”

“My Lord, it's an honor.” I bowed, trying to smile despite being singled out a moment prior. I had flashbacks of many nights spent studying William’s chronicles in latin, often to the point of exhaustion, but I was elated by the privilege of meeting him regardless.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet the crown prince’s tutor. Only twenty-one years old too, so young. Tell me, what is your focus of study?”

“Mainly the development of the Holy Roman Empire following Charlemagne and Clovis. You can see why I came to Jerusalem, in the greater timeline, you could argue that the conquest of the Holy Land is consequential the former.”

“Fascinating, absolutely fascinating, particularly for a woman. If you don’t mind me asking, how does your family feel about your lifestyle?”

“Fascinating indeed.” Guy nodded “I shall take my leave now, adieu my Lords, my Lady.”

“ _ Adieu _ ”, Both men nodded farewell in response. I quietly seethed, just wanting him gone.

“My mother has passed” I moved on to William’s question “And the decision to educate me was sentimental, my father was unable to get an education when he was younger due to time spent Soldiering. He succeeded afterward through his trade, and made it so that my brother and I were educated. I happened to be good enough at it to pursue work in education.”

I think I had set the standard of truthful bullshitting since i’ve gotten here. Despite the vagueness, and despite the doubts of people like Guy, the smartest old man in the room seemed to believe it.

“Oh dear, I am sorry to hear about your mother.” He responded solemnly “ But it pleases me to know your father valued the pen as well as the sword. Perhaps I could help you gain experience in chronicling, if you ever find yourself in the Holy City.” He held up his hands, wrinkled and pale “My hands aren’t what they used to be, and I could use a pair of fresh eyes to script as I need.”

“Do many women work with scripture?” I inquired.

“Yes, many” he responded “In fact, the vast majority of our artists are nuns. I do hope you’ll consider joining them.”

“I never would have guessed” I smiled “It would be an honor to work for you, My Lord.”

“We shall have to speak more at the feast, I am always interested in the progress of others’ research.” William closed our conversation with a pleasant smile that wrinkled his already-wizened eyes “Goodbye for now, my lady.” He turned to King Baldwin “Your Majesty.”

After William left, Baldwin remained at my side.

“I noticed your discomfort, I hope Guy was not bothering you” He stated kindly “He is a brilliant commander, but his aggression often finds its way into conversation.”

“I can see that, but i’m not bothered.” I folded my hands together as my nerves dulled. “It seems like he has a lot of pent-up hostility, its common in a lot of disengaged soldiers.”

“Hopefully the joust will allow him to get it out of his system.”

“A joust?” I asked bemusedly “Brought down to the Holy Land, and to be held on the Lord’s Day?”.

“Worry not, Susana, the joust and combat forbid any shedding of blood or harm to a competitor.” He moved as he spoke, encouraging me follow him towards the entrance. “The first Sunday of each month, when businesses are closed.”

While we walked, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Guy speaking with Sibylla, Sibylla did not notice me, but I knew Guy was staring daggers at me walking beside the King.

“I’ve never seen one before” I sighed “But the skill and valor of knighthood, all without the spilling of blood.. Yes, I know i’ll enjoy it.”

“Many of the crusaders and migrants from Europe do, in their homelands, their lives were too poor to access such spectacles, in Jerusalem, they have the freedom to watch and sometimes participate.” “I insist you come with me, if this is your first, we shall watch it together.”

“Of course, your majesty” It was my first joust, I wasn’t about to turn down the invitation.

\---

Several crusader knights, chosen by their lords, marched on horseback in line. Rather than the standard knight’s cross, each wore a color scheme chosen in accordance to the lord they represented. Guy de Lusignan wore the arms of Raynald de Chatillon, the regent to whom he was loyal.

As the knights paraded, each asked the favor of a lady in the audience. I was positioned just to the left of the King and the Princess.

“A favor from my future wife?” Guy teased as he stopped in front of Sybilla. I did not look at him, focusing instead on the other knights. One of which had ridden up to me, he pulled off his helmet to shake loose an unmistakable head full of red hair, and a beard that had been cut close to his face.

“Reynard!” I exclaimed, crouching down near the front of the observation box.

“Hail, Susana!”

“You’re popular with the ladies” I jested as I examined the number of favors he had received, they had formed a rainbow of different fabrics near the hilt of his lance.

“Could always do with one more, you know” He pointed the lance upward, moving the hilt closer to me. “If not for me, than for Grendel at least” He patted the side of his horse’s brown neck.

“Anything for a friend” I responded, undoing one of the ribbons that bound my sleeve together “It's the same color as straw, make sure Grendel doesn’t eat it” I gave the animal a rub under the chin before tying the ribbon  on the furthest end of the line of favors.

The last knight to enter the arena bore no coat of arms, his armor appeared to have been painted black, mail, tunic and all. He was the only one whom did not bear insignia of any kind.

“The troublemaker.” King Baldwin whispered to me “He didn’t show for the last joust, but the last one he did, he tried to shame a nun by asking for her favor. No one knows his name, no one even knows where he gets his horses from.”

“How is he allowed to perform without being identified?” I asked.

“He puts on a good show, and there aren’t any rules that exclude anyone from fighting.”

The black knight rode along the audience, I had expected a cold reception after hearing a bit of background on him, but the crowd cheered even louder as he rode past them all. Eventually, from afar, he locked eyes with me. Something about the darkness of his eyes seemed familiar, even from beneath the afternoon shadow cast by his helmet. He continued to ride until he stopped still in front of me. My heart pounded as the depth of his gaze increased with mine. At last, he extended his lance toward me, pointing it just past my shoulder. 

He was asking for my favor.

With shaking hands, I undid another one of the ribbons holding my sleeve together and tied it to the middle of the lance, too afraid to get closer to the hilt, and to him.

At last, he withdrew and reared his horse. The crowd resumed cheering and I felt a sense of relief as he rode off to join the others.  I looked towards the King, he looked at me once and then turned back towards the event. I wondered if he knew anything more about the stranger.

“ _ Who was he? _ ” I asked myself. I had seen those eyes before, troubled and full of pain. Why did he stop and ask for  _ my _ favor, out of every woman here?

Guy was, admittedly, a great jouster. I never approve of violence, but if I could describe his performance in knocking other men off of their horses and into the dirt, it would be “fantastic”. Reynard was just as good, perhaps even better, save for him finally taking a tumble off of his horse during the last leg of the competition. Perhaps the various favors from the ladies had some sort of mystical, chivalrous value after all. The joust ended with two competitors, the Black Knight, and Guy.

“Susana” King Baldwin called to me.

“Yes, your majesty?”

“Would you go to the stables, after this is through?” He sounded almost nervous.

“Yes, of course.” I responded. I was uncertain of what he wanted, the tone of his voice warranted some concern, but I was too engaged with this last clash to dwell on it.

Both knights were armored and helmeted, and with the final bugle call, both charged towards each other. The force as the two met was so great, and both parties so steadied, that both fell off of their horses at once, the equine giants running frightened in both directions. 

Grunting angrily, Guy ran to the lance station in the corner of  the arena towards a sword “See me on ground!” He challenged. The Black Knight ran towards his own in return, making no vocal response.

“Are they going to kill each other over a joust?” I panicked.

“They’re allowed combat, so long as they do not truly hurt each other.”

Though he did not look back, I looked into the eyes of the Black Knight. I knew there was something deeper than heat-of-the-moment rage. He hated his opponent, and knowing Guy, the violent rage would be mutual.

Finally, The Black Knight struck the first blow, which Guy blocked. Sparks flew, eliciting impressed “ooh”s of from the audience. The Knight tried to swing at Guy’s arm next, which was mercifully avoided with a dodge. Guy then smacked the knight from behind with the broad side of his sword. The blow knocked the knight forward, and with a roar of anger, he retaliated against Guy by forcefully jamming the hilt of his sword against Guy’s helmet, stunning Guy to collapse.

“That’s enough, Sir Knight. I order you to stop.” King Baldwin stood from his seat and shouted as loudly as he could

The knight took a step closer towards Guy, whom laid on the ground in a daze, still wearing his helmet.

“I will not answer to you” The Knight finally spoke, in muffled voice, his “Look at me, no banners, no coat of arms, no lords.”

King Baldwin gave one last warning to the Knight

“Cease, immediately, and I will let you live. If you proceed with harming your opponent, you will be executed.”

I jumped under the wooden barrier dividing the King’s viewing area from the field. I raced to the dusty field to see if I could do anything to stop him. I didn’t surprise him, he watched me run to save Guy and did nothing. It was almost as if the knight was waiting for me. 

I wedged myself between the knight and the unconscious Guy, who likely could not even see the  bloodthirsty figure hovering above him. I crouched down and arched my back over Guy, supporting myself on his side with my left hand, guarding my eyes from the sun with my right as I tried to get a good look at the onyx stranger.

“Please, sir Knight. It is the Lord’s day. Do not spill blood here” I pleaded “Not while I have given you my favor” I looked back and forth, he seemed to glance about the audience, whom were too awestruck to make a sound.

“A public execution is exactly what this monster deserves.” He snarled “Move aside, Susana.”

“If not for me or the nobility, then for poor men and women in the audience. Refugees from the Holy Roman Empire, they finally have a chance to have some leisure here. Please, think of them. If this man has wronged you, you both deserve a fair trial. Not this.” I looked around at the terrified faces. “Anything but this”

The knight’s eyes went from rage to confusion. His hands began to tremble as he held his sword, before finally pulling it back, dropping it on the ground. He walked towards his discarded lance, and pulled my ribbon across of the base and off the top. He then walked slowly towards me.

“Give me your hand.” He said gently.

I extended my hand in a loose palm. He folded the ribbon into quarters until it was a small slip of folded silk. He placed it into my hand before closing it into a fist. He looked up at the king one last time, whom was himself standing up from his seat.

“You will not come back here again.” King Baldwin sounded almost unnaturally agitated, “I will let you ride free today, but if you try to compete again, you will be arrested and disgraced of your title.”

I looked up at him one last time before he whistled for his horse ““I will not joust again” He replied as he mounted the great beast “But you will see me again, your majesty.” He looked down at Guy De Lusignan, who was still unconscious, in my arms now as worked to pull off his helmet. “So will he.” The knight rode off into the arid hills, not looking back.. I looked at the silk ribbon in my hands, even as I stood and returned to the viewing area, as physicians rushed towards Guy.

“An unusual situation!” Sibylla spoke up. I noticed that the king was slumping over to his side, likely from exhaustion. “My future husband has been the victim of poor sportsmanship, and on the last leg of the tournament, no less!” She clapped her hands to an attendant in the corner, and several servants carrying mountains of buttered bread and silver jugs of wine. “Good people, shall we have a do-over with any knights still able to compete?”

Cries of excitement erupted from the audience, paired with stamping of feet on the wooden structure they sat beneath. Bread and Circus, it does the trick every time.

“Brother, are you feeling well?” Sibylla knelt next to Baldwin, placing her hands on top of his. “Susana, could you get some water?”

I obeyed, and ran for a jug of water that was already in the corner, pouring it into a silver chalice. I took a sip before handing it to the king, ensuring it was not poisoned.

“Sibylla, Susana, if you could kindly look away.” He requested. I did as he asked, and looked away as he turned to his side and lifted his mask to drink water. I pitied him, I imagined how hard it was to try and conceal his affliction beneath a mask. It was so difficult that necessities like drinking water became inconvenient.

“I must go see my fiance” Sibylla panicked “They’re probably taking him back to the castle.”

“I will go myself, the show has to continue, and it has to continue right.” I did not like Guy, but I didn’t hate him enough to want him dead. “If anyone can make sure this show doesn’t fall apart until the King feels better, it is the princess.”

“Sybilla will go to see Guy. Susana, you may stay, you have already stolen the show. If anyone  _ will _ ensure it goes on, it should be you.”

“If anything happens, please send for me.” Sybilla exited from the back, attended by two guards, before briefly turning back. “Eugenia is here, she will send someone to the castle if you ask her”

Eugenia, the portly handmaid that cleaned me before meeting with the King.

“Hello Eugenia.” I greeted in Greek, trying to sound friendly.

“Hello, Susana.” She responded uneasily, silently judging how close I was to the King, who was still recovering from the moment’s exhaustion, potentially compounded by the heat.

“The sun is going down soon, your majesty, the air will cool. Stay with me.”

“Should I stand and fall, Ive the maiden Herakles there to catch me.” He joked, handing me the empty chalice he had been holding in his gloved hand. “I will recover for the finale, though I cannot step down to award the winner his horse, you must do this for me.”

“As long as I don’t end up on the other end of a sword again” I joked, returning to my seat.

The Knights were all just as vivacious as before, eventually, one stood victorious, Sir Reynard. He paraded his lance about, a long line of ladies’ favors in full view, colors billowing just as his hair did. His reception was a mixture of exalted cheer.

“We have our winner!” King Baldwin was able to declare “Representing the Noble House of Ibelin, Sir Reynard the Welshman!”

Amidst the cheer and Reynard’s congratulatory ride, I walked towards the stable where the great horse stood, it was very lean, an Arabian breed with a stunning rusty coat and a long, dark mane and tail. Looping a thin rope through the iron ring of the horse’s bit, I guided him back to the ring where Reynard continued to parade. I noticed he was wearing something white on his head, a crown of flowers that I saw clearly just as he dismounted before me.

“Do you like ‘em?” He turned his head side to side “Poppies! White ones! I love it!” His chest heaved, he was dirty, and sweat dripped down his brow, but his ear-splitting grin revealed his mood “Can’t believe I won, I didn’t think they’d be this pleased at all, since the first round was sabotaged!”

“Sir Reynard” I spoke loudly and clearly “Do you accept this steed as your prize?”

“I do, thank you my lady.” The crowd erupted in cheer as he took my hand and kissed it as I handed him the reigns in his other hand.

“Go on, big guy” I spoke softly “There's probably a line of girls at the gate already waiting for you, don’t let them think you’re spoken for.”

“Right away, God bless ya, thank you, Susana”.

I smiled at him and looked back at the King, whom was clapping and shaking hands with some of the civilians that had shown up on the field, there were more guards around than before, so I dare not try to return to the viewing box. I remembered his invitation to meet outside the stable after the joust. I made my way there, anticipating seeing him if he was well again.

\---

I waited outside the stable as the crowds died down and families returned to their homes for supper, some for evening mass. I thought a bit on what I had done, and how I had stopped Guy de Lusignan from being killed in armed combat. I knew he was probably alive and well in Sibylla’s home. Since I had gotten here, I had tried only to survive and not draw too much attention to myself. Between acquainting myself with the royal family, and causing a commotion during the joust, I had failed miserably, but I could not regret either. Moreover, I found the future more exciting, and I wondered if, at one point, I might have read my own name mentioned in one of the many history texts i’ve read during college.

Reynard rode up to me on Grendel, with the Arabian beauty I had passed on to him in tow.

“ _ Suuuuusssanna _ !” He half-sung to me.

“Drunk already? I barely saw you less than an hour ago”

He gave a hearty laugh “I’m one of those men whose drunk mind is sometimes more clear than their sober mind!” He pulled the Arabian horse towards me “He is gorgeous! Exotic, maybe even expensive! But my heart will always belong to Grendel here!” He patted the sturdy brown stallion. “I guess what I wanna ask is, Susana, do you want this horse?”

“Oh, Reynard, are you sure?” I took the beauty back into my grasp, he huffed and walked up behind me.

“Don’t even think i’m the real winner, seeing what happened with Guy, still had fun, but don’t know if I can accept a prize after all.” He hoisted himself back up onto Grendel “‘’Sides, Guy calls the shots as Jaffa’s constable now. Don’t want him bothering me about the horse when he finally comes to.”

“I love him so much!” I didn’t know how to care for horses, and haven’t ridden one since I was very little, but having a pet and means of transportation would make things much easier for me in the city.

“Make sure to brush that one every day, they get upset if they aren’t pretty!  _ I _ get upset if they aren’t pretty! Farewell!”.

“My, look at your beautiful hair, you’re the most majestic animal i’ve ever seen” I kissed the animal on the nose as he nuzzled my hand. “I’ll call you Mongkut. A name worthy of a king.”

Chainmail shifting indicated the arrival of soldiers, all guarding the King, who stepped closer towards me to examine the horse.

“Is this the creature that Sir Reynard won in the Joust?” He stroked the neck of the animal.

“Yes, your majesty, Reynard approached me just now, giving it to me. He’s committed to his current horse.”

“Its a perfect companion for you, particularly for what I’d like to invite you to, tonight.”

“What do you have planned your majesty?” I asked, “I have not ridden a horse in many years, I don’t know how well i’d be able to follow along without practice”

“You will catch on, it's not something you forget.” He motioned for one of the guards to fit Mongkut with a saddle, which was then layered upon his back with some kind of hand-woven blanket. The soldier then brought out the same white mare that Baldwin had rode to mass on.

“Polaris” he stroked her long, black mane. “The North Star”.

“She's beautiful..” I spoke softly, looking into her small, dark eyes. “The way her mane shines looks like the night sky.”

“She has magnificent balance, she’s made riding far more comfortable for me even as it becomes more difficult.” He slowly pulled himself up onto Polaris’ back. “Go on now, Susana, just put your foot in the stirrup.”

I pulled myself up onto Mongkut, and pulled

“That’s an unusual way for a lady to ride a horse.” he commented, watching me fumble with my dress as I rode with both legs on either side of my horse.

“I don’t know how to ride sidesaddle.” I pulled my skirt as far down either of my legs as they would go, trying to conceal whatever I could of my modesty. “And I dare not injure myself attempting to do so. I hope this doesn’t offend you.”

“It's not wrong, just unusual.” Baldwin responded, covering the lower half of his mask by pulling the scarf around his neck up to the bridge of his mask’s nose. “Come, follow me. Try to keep pace”

I nervously guided Mongkut forward, nearly launching myself off twice as I put too much pressure on one side, causing him to jerk towards the other direction. We rode through one of the smaller entrances to the city, and towards the distant hills. The daylight had turned orange with

“Perhaps we should have gotten you a riding crop. Come, before we lose daylight.”

“It seems every time we converse privately, there isn’t any light, your Majesty”

“Not really.” He chimed, looking back at me to check my progress. I tried to keep pace, but I was getting the hang of it, even as he sped up.

We rode about fifteen minutes out of town at a faster pace. We rode past brush and palm trees, all of which reminded me of the Mojave desert back home. 

“I want to show you something, I used to ride out here when I would visit my mother, the former countess of Jaffa. I saw her scarcely when I was little, even when I was here, so I spent most of my time reading, or exploring on horseback.”

“Those are good hobbies for a boy to have” I responded, riding beside him. I realized how earthy and plain I must look next to him, the deep red and blue hues of my dress echoed the image of austerity and studiousness I wanted to convey in public, but were unremarkable when riding alongside a king on a white horse, with white clothing trimmed with gold and silver falling gracefully about him.

“See that hill?” he asked as we continued our approach “I would ride out here and stand upon that hill, and I would look out over Jerusalem, and I would imagine every individual life in that one little oasis in the world. Thousands of souls, thousands of hopes and dreams, thousands of prayers to God each night.” He rode around me in a circle as he spoke ”and each soul has come to this city with the hope of salvation. Not wealth, not even comfort. Salvation. And I am the guardian of each one.” Following his trajectory around me, he rode up the hill alongside the gentlest incline it offered. 

The image of him as he reached the top would be ingrained in my memory forever, the fading light of day and the desert wind reflecting his magnificent outfit from atop the darkening hill. From behind his mask, he looked at his kingdom, at his people and land, and he would look no further.

This is what a king ought to look like, this is who a king should be. A beacon of spiritual beauty, a beacon of righteousness and of peace.

“ _ My God. _ ” I whispered to myself in English. If ever I were to have a spiritual awakening in the Holy Land, it was here, at the foot of this hill. I slowly guided Mongkut up the same path Baldwin took and stood alongside him. As he looked towards the citadel that loomed over the desert, an ancient oasis of stone, mortar, life and death.

“Jerusalem.” I whispered. “God help us all, its beautiful, its deadly.”

“And again and again the Achaeans will come for Helen.” he responded.

For a moment, I desperately wanted to tell him about the centuries of tragedy the city would face after his death, to lament the endless horror, but there was nothing to gain from doing so. 

“It can be a peaceful place to live, you know, even if you look no further than your own borders. Even if you have to swallow your pride and choose diplomacy over bloodshed.” I replied reassuringly “And a peaceful society will always begin at the bottom, with the people who form that society. Bring Jerusalem together in love, and they will endure as one entity.”

“Your pacifism is touching, Susana. I admire how sound your beliefs are” He responded, both of us were silent for a moment, taking in the stillness of the desert. “I want to thank you for stepping in for Guy this afternoon.”

“That was unusual. I know he can be crass, but that Knight’s behavior was inexcusable..”

“I’m sure you know by now that he and Sibylla are now betrothed.” 

“I kind of figured” I remarked sarcastically, or tried to articulate sarcasm in Latin.

“He has grown in my mother’s favor. I believe he wants to share in my nephew’s power when I pass away, that's why he’s also trying to garner favor with the other noble houses.”

“Don’t talk like that.” I rode in front of him so that he was looking directly into my eyes. “Don’t say you are going to die as if you are to die very soon.”

He laughed playfully “Susana, you must have met very few Lepers.” He pulled his glove loose, exposing the pale flesh of his forearm, dotted with white spots and sores. “It gets worse every year, and my strength begins to fade. In a few years I will no longer be able to walk or ride a horse. I know that the Lord has not put me on this planet to live long, but he has given me the gifts to live well.”

“What if the Lord plans for you to get better?” I rode up alongside him so that we were closer than ever “What if he could send you a miracle?”

“It would be a few years late” He responded “But if the Lord wishes me to live long, I will live long, and well.”

_ “Are you mad? Can you change his fate? Can you challenge god?” _ I thought to myself, considering whether proposing such a thing. I was born into the post-penicillin age, I made the damn stuff for a High School laboratory exam. I didn’t remember everything, but I still had more of a clue than basically anyone else on earth right now.

_ “I will try, God damn everything else, I will try.” _

“Alchemy” I responded “There is alchemy.  _ Lapis Philosophorum.  _ The elixir of life, immortality itself.”

“Heresy.” He turned to ride down the hill, clearly displeased “Alchemy is heretical. You will never turn water into silver or gold.”

“You are right, nor will I ever become immortal. Death will come for every alchemist as sure as it will someday for us both.” I caught up with him, slowly “But there is another way. There is a path between Hubris and Piety. There is a cure, and I have seen it.” I met his downcast gaze as we both eyed the steep pathway down.

He stopped at the mouth of the incline and murmured. “Explain.”

“There is a cure, somewhere in the distant future. When mankind’s understanding of the natural world is much better than it is now, the alchemists will find a cure for.. For people like you. I am familiar with how it is produced, and I can try to recreate it.”

He rode down, I did not press him further, but I did follow him. For awhile, there was no sound but the sound of hooves kicking back the dusty earth.

“I have spent my whole life preparing for my death” He broke the silence “It was Archbishop William who discovered that I was a leper, you know. I was a boy, and when I did not cry out in pain as I roughhoused with the other boys, he knew something was wrong.” One after the other, we both concluded our descent. “From that moment on, the plan for my life would change. I would father no children, and the burden of inheritance would fall to my sisters. My life would be for me to lead, no matter how little time I had left, no matter how excruciating my existence became, it would be my life, and I am content with that.”

“I’m sorry” I replied as I cast my eyes downwards towards the blush of the desert at dusk. Even if he turned my offer away, I cannot say I hadn’t tried.

“You wish there was something you could do to help, maybe there is. But Leprosy is God’s curse unto me, and all that will follow for the remainder of my life

“This is why i’m trying to get you to see treatment as a middle way, rather than a Faustian fantasy, your majesty.”

“ _ Fouls-tian _ ?” he tried to repeat the modern word I had negligently used.

“Never mind that” I pushed “You don’t have to surrender yourself through inaction. God’s plan can be good, and it can involve you trying to save yourself.”

“See things through my eyes, my youth was taken from me. Dying young is.. All I have ever thought about..” His voice trailed off, and I noticed he was hunched forward.

“Stop your horse, you’re going to get hurt!” I called after him. He at last managed to knock his legs to Polaris’ side, halting her. I stopped and threw my legs off the side of Mongkut, rushing to Baldwin’s side.

“One of the muscles in my upper legs has been prone to weakness lately.” He lamented ”Another reminder that I can’t ride like I used to”

“Try relaxing it and just holding on.” I undid one of Mongkut’s reigns and tied it to Polaris’ bit. “I’ll guide you back.”

“You can’t lead Polaris with another horse. Haven’t you noticed she always rides at the front with me?” He gave a small, exhausted laugh and stroked the mare behind her ears.

I looked around, frustrated. The gates of Jaffa were in view, but it’d still be a 30 minute ride at the least, and it was getting dark, fast.

“Well, I can’t move you on to my horse, not while you’re weak. Your guards would kill me” I pulled at Mongkut’s other rein, steadying him. I wasn’t a doctor, but I knew I couldn’t let Baldwin keep steering the horse for fear of his safety.

“I’ll walk.” I double checked that Mongkut and Polaris were connected, and began guiding both horses. “Its not that far. I can see the lights.”

“Susana” He called “Would it not be easier for you to ride up here with me?”

I looked behind me, and realized he was serious.

“Are you serious?” I asked anyway.

“It would be better than allowing you to ruin those fine Italian robes and shoes in the unforgiving terrain.”

He had a point, these things weren’t cheap, I was only able to afford them on account of Ali being out of town for 2 weeks. Nearly 2 weeks payment on clothes. “ _ God, I miss cheap nylon _ ” I thought.

“Are you sure, your majesty? Polaris won’t be able to move as quickly.”

I adjusted the blanketed fastenings of the saddle on the front so that it could accommodate me. I carefully lifted myself on one stirrup and hoisted myself onto Polaris’ back. Baldwin was a lean man, so we both fit atop the saddle snugly. Polaris was broader, and sturdier than Mongkut, but she went just the same when I pressed her, Mongku following her at her side.

As we began riding, I noticed that Baldwin was still shifting, unbalanced, unsteady. I stopped the mare briefly to help him stabilize himself.

“You have to, um.” I felt my voice tremble “Hold on, to me.”

There was a moment of hesitation

“Yes” he replied, he slowly moved his concealed hands to my waist, gripping both sides of my stomach and the heavy Fabric that covered me.

“Like this?” 

“Yes.” I felt my cheeks grow very hot “Like that” This felt incredibly awkward, but then again, it must have felt much worse for him. Thankfully, he couldn’t see how red my face had become.

“I’m sorry for saying all of that stuff, I know it's crazy.” I tried to break the awkward silence. “I understand why you feel the way you do, I really do. I just wanted you to know that.. It was an option.”

“Forgiven and forgotten, Susana” He insisted “I’m glad you understand, I appreciate that you always find it in your heart to understand.” Polaris stumbled over a stone, forcing Baldwin closer to me with a jolt. He caught himself by squeezing his arms around my waist.

“Now i’m sorry” he apologized.

Having Mongkut be led by Polaris was tricky, as Mongkut would try to stray at times. In this one instance, he picked up speed and moved in front of Polaris. Polaris chuffed with frustration at being pushed behind, and nudged Mongkut away as we moved forward.

“Polaris” I tried to break the awkwardness with conversation, it would be a long ride after all “Doesn’t like to be led, only guide us lowly desert pilgrims. You were right.”

“Have you chosen a name for your mount?” I felt his gaze shift towards Mongkut, whom, even with his dark coat in the late dusk, seemed as radiant as ever.

“I have” I answered happily “I’ve named him Mongkut, after a great eastern king.”

“‘Mongkut’ is an interesting name, though I cannot say i’ve heard of its man of origin.”

“It’s a great story, one of my favorites” I responded dreamily, reminiscing about Marni Nixon’s voice and Yul Brynner’s dancing. Every day I remembered less about the world I left behind, but  _ The King and I  _ always reminded me of finer, simpler joys I had when I was a child.

“Would you care to tell it? I’ve always enjoyed stories.”

“Well..” I thought of how to summarize the musical, I brought Polaris up to an acceptable pace and set began “The story is about a king trying to protect his country and traditions. A great empire is forming in the west, and is taking over all of the smaller kingdoms of the east and the south, just like old Rome. King Mongkut knows that the only way to avoid being taken over by the Empire is to learn their ways and play their game, so he hires a citizen of the empire to teach his wives and children their ways.”

“Wives?” Baldwin interjected “He was a saracen?”

“No” I laughed “No, no. He was a Buddhist, like the Chinese. But yes, he had many wives, and the one he hired was a woman named Anna. She would teach his harem and children everything from western math, to science and social studies.” 

From off in the distance, the last of the sun’s light was twinkling on the horizon of the distant sea, and the stars began to appear clearly in the sky. I knew we had to get back soon, for Baldwin’s safety and my own.

“But Mongkut was stubborn, he did not always agree to Anna’s teachings, and the two often disagreed. But in the end, Mongkut sacrificed his pride and adapted his country to endure the rising tide, and Siam remained an independent country.”

“I don't understand” Baldwin responded “Why would he want to become more like the empire he was trying to deter?”

“The best way to outsmart your enemy is to know them.” I asserted “The empire believed that the smaller countries were barbaric and needed to be guided by the empire like a child. King Mongkut and Anna then planned an Imperial style party, and invited Imperial guests. The Guests were so convinced that the Siamese were exactly like them, that they left the Siamese alone.” We finally reached the entrance to Jaffa, several guards awaited the King’s return, and seemed relieved to finally be able to go home. They did not even stare or ask questions as I dismounted from the horse and claimed my own.

“I will be stopping by the apothecary before I head home, so this is where we will part ways.” I looked upward at the King, who had once again taken Polaris’ reigns.

“Thank you for joining me, Susana, may the Lord keep you tonight.”

“And you as well, your majesty, thank you for sharing that beautiful place with me.” I smiled at him as he walked away with his entourage. The King was great company.

I did head towards the apothecary’s shop that night, the apothecary was a friendly old Jewish man who regularly worked sundays, but I arrived at the small stone building to find the door closed, with no lights inside. It was not far from the castle, no big deal, i’d try again tomorrow at a more reasonable hour.

“ _ Susana _ ” I heard a small whisper from the other side of the shop.

“Who's there?” I whispered back.

Emerging from the side of the building was sister Heloise, the mousy young Benedictine nun that I had met before my “trial”. She was crossing her arms tightly and crying, her face red and puffy as if she’d been doing it for hours.

“Heloise.” I said in hushed tone “Is everything okay?”

“I need to talk to you about the woman who owned that dress I gave you” She sniffled, “Gianna. And the Black Knight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to write something exciting this time, as I felt the last chapter was a little boring, but felt necessary in building up a foundation for His Majesty and Suser's relationship. =) I feel like the Knight's identity might be obvious but hey! If it is, I can laugh at Suzie for not realizing it right away.
> 
> Some Footnotes:  
> \- Standard European jousting in the 12th century was extremely virile and less refined. The type of joust i've portrayed (Chivalric sentiments like a Lady's favor, minimal violent conflict) would have been rare for the time period but understandable for the region because of (based on my guess, anyway) a shortage of reliable Christian soldiers so far from Europe. This is why Suzie was so shocked that it would be held on a Sunday, and in the Holy Land, no less.   
> \- Recent research into a set of medieval nun's teeth imply that nuns could have been scribes/artists of manuscripts (The teeth had traces of Lapis Lazuli, likely the result of the scribe licking brushes with pigment still on them), hence why i'm writing William as being totally cool with the idea.  
> \- I really like writing Reynard. He's so good and pure. I don't know how such a character could come from *my* head.


	7. White Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suzanne returns to Jerusalem with Heloise looking for William of Tyre, and finds a little more than what she expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a minute but Chapter 7 is here!! I just finished my final exams so I will definitely have more time to write this summer. Thank you for waiting and hello to everyone tuning in! Hope you enjoy! <3
> 
> P.S. Check the end notes for some historical context, if you're interested. =)

    Heloise and I shuttered ourselves in the dark chapel. Heloise seemed far more calm, now. Even through her red, tired eyes, I could tell she looked desperate to talk about what happened at the tournament. She drew fire from a votive candle and lit the tealights that surrounded the icon of the virgin inside the chapel, whose gold-leaf halo glinted in the faint candlelight, reflecting the weariness of Heloise’s face. “Gianna was the sister whose dress I gave you” She sighed, extinguishing the taper stick “She died a week before you and I met. She gave me every one of her worldly possessions. I loved her so much.” She began tearing up again, her sentences breaking up into heaves. I wrapped my arms around her consolingly.

    “Heloise, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” I didn’t know Gianna, but having known loss myself, the pain in her voice was as evocative as any other that reminded me of mother. “What was she like?” I asked her, hoping that remembering Gianna would help Heloise cope with the loss.

    “She was so nice, Susana.” She breathed “She loved children, and she was so generous. She never turned down the opportunity to heal someone. She managed each and every one of our bread lines and holiday meals. Everywhere we went, she never let anyone go hungry.” She looked up at me “She was so pretty, too. Truly God-blessed. She had these pale green eyes, just like yours. And when the dark knight singled you out, it was like seeing the shock of her own, alas, alas!"

"Slow down, Heloise" I rubbed her shoulders. Her breathing had once again devolved into a raggedness that I was able to feel through her robes. "Can you tell me what happened? I know you’re frightened, I won't tell a soul about a word you said. I swear."

The nun whimpered timidly "I'm so sorry. Just as he took your favor, he  requested the same of her at the last joust. It was like watching the past repeat itself. I know that knight had something to do with her dying. No one believes me, but the able don’t just get sick and die after two days. I believe she was poisoned. I believe the black knight did it.”

I felt that the circumstances of Gianna’s death were beginning to come together, It was like the edges of a jigsaw puzzle, the foundations had come to, but I was still far from seeing the whole picture. If the nun the knight had tried to shame was Gianna, for what reason would he try to single her out? Moreover, what reason would he have to kill her?

“Heloise, did Gianna have any enemies? Anyone that would have wanted to hurt her?”

“No, none at all” she asserted “She had only been here for about a year, and rarely left the Abbey.” she paused and caught herself “but she was called an agitator”

“But why?”

Gianna struggled to explain, the situation was difficult for her to talk about, as it also explained the overburdening of the church. Gianna had agitated for land from the Lordship of Mirabel to be given to the church to cultivate cotton, for the purpose of dressing the wounds of soldiers returning from battle. The county of Jaffa and Ascalon was divided on the matter, but even with Agnes and Sibylla supporting Gianna’s appeal, there was not a strong enough push to hand land over to the abbey for the war effort.

“So Gianna kept pushing and pushing.” she concluded “she appealed to the countess and spoke in the streets, and got all of the clergy and the county involved, even at services where the nobility was present.. But it doesn’t make sense, does it? No one has ever been assassinated simply for being a nuisance.”

“But what reason would the knight have to kill her?” I asked.

“Is there ever a reason for murder?” she quipped, but she was right. “Maybe he served one of them, maybe he lacks a love for Christ and revels in hurting others, but you need to protect yourself, Susana. He carries a bad omen, and I worry he may have marked you for death today.”

The knight had seemed proud of his lack of banners, if he had loyalty to any of the noble families of Jaffa-and-Ascalon, he was discreet about it.

I offered her temporary peace of mind “I should be safe in the castle, would you care to spend the night in my apartment, Heloise? It's far too late for you to walk back.”

“Will I be allowed?” she responded

“I’ll let the guards know, you will feel safer there.”

We left the chapel and returned to my room. For the first time, I saw Heloise in an outfit other than the standard dress of the nuns. Her hair was thin and mousy as she was, but its color was a warm, dark blonde that fell in dense, straight locks down her shoulders. She was very petite and childlike, but young as she looked, she was about twenty-four.

“Shall we pray?” I asked as I finished combing tangles out of her freed hair. I didn’t usually pray before bed, but knew it would be important to Heloise given the circumstances. The night was warm, so I spared lighting a fire as we both prepared for bed.

“Yes.” she responded “For those we’ve lost”

If God listened to us that night, he heard us pray for Gianna, for Jerusalem and her people, for the world, and for the soul of the dark knight.

When morning came, Heloise and I ate breakfast with the servants, all of whom usually ate earlier than the court before getting back to business. Heloise knew most of them already due to constant services for the county. Eugenia walked in carrying a woven satchel excitedly and began to hand out parcels and folded letters to the

“The courier stopped by.” she stated excitedly

“Sounds like the postal has finally resumed,” Heloise responded happily. “Now we can hear back from the old world, I should write to my father in France.”

“My son has written to me from Constantinople, Susana, could you read it for me?” Eugenia asked, pulling a thick, folded letter out of the satchel “This one's for you”

“Here, shall I read it aloud?” I asked. “My Greek accent is still rough.”

Eugenia smiled and nodded in response. “Then this will give you practice.”

Eugenia’s son Basil had evidently begun studying medicine under the rich and prosperous medical knowledge of the Byzantines, strengthened in centuries past by trade with the Arab world, as well as other parts of the Orient. In addition, he wrote that he had married the daughter of a wealthy banker, her name was Eudokia, she was a good and virtuous woman, and that they were expecting a child. Basil enclosed a packet of rare and exotic tea packets he had purchased from Constantinople’s ports. Eugenia seemed elated, and a little saddened by the letter. Despite her baby-faced smile and the roar of congratulations from the other servants, a letter alone was not fulfilling. I could tell Eugenia wanted to be with her son as his life changed. I knew the look, I felt the same look on my face whenever I thought of my family, and how time and life must be passing for them in my absence.

I had nearly forgotten about the letter passed to me, thinking it was a quote I had put in for three empty leatherbound tomes, in which I had plans for writing in when I had the time. The wax seal was an unusual indigo color, impressed with a _Fleur-de-lys_. It was a seal of the house of Anjou, surely. As I cracked it open, my mind began racing with reasons why the King might wish to write me. It had only been yesterday evening that I saw him, so the letter must be recent.

   

_To the Lady Susana,_

_I have written this letter after our parting ways and I would like to emphasize the graciousness of your offer. I encourage you to enlighten the church’s pool of knowledge with all you know of the liberal arts and sciences from abroad. Scrolls are scarce due to the constant interruption of trade caravans, and every scholar is encouraged to do their part._

_-addendum-_

_Should you find the time, I would deeply enjoy receiving written accounts of tales you have heard from abroad. These stories could also be copied and preserved in Jerusalem’s library, allowing you to contribute in service, perhaps with the additional benefit of tax credit. I look forward to hearing from you soon._

_Baldwin IV_

_King of Jerusalem_

 

“Can I see?” Heloise pried excitedly. She had seen the seal on the letter, no doubt. Many of Jerusalem’s people were illiterate, but Heloise, being of middle-class birth and having an education by the clergy, was an excellent reader. I handed it, unfolded, into her hands, beginning to wonder about my future in the country. Heloise joined in my excitement

“Are you going to write a book for the court?” She asked “Plenty of us at the abbey are scribes. Oh, Susana, you should join!”

“Maybe” I pondered, joining the church would allow me to work with far more resources and social mobility. As of now, I had only been living off of the superstitious goodwill of the countess, and judging by my encounter with Guy after services the day prior, I was beginning to stand out.

“I’ve helped illustrate illuminated manuscripts for the Archbishop, maybe I can help.” Heloise was bordering on insistent. Unlike many of the other nuns, whom were in their teens or forties, she was in her mid-twenties. Perhaps she had found a new friend in me.

I had considered using local archives to find copies of the prechristian philosophies of Aristotle and Plato. Other than possibly joining the church, the plan would have been to write essays under an anonymous pen name interpreting classical philosophical beliefs, and submitting them to the Universities. This would be an early introduction to humanism. It wouldn’t make me rich, but it would enrich me in other ways. I had the privilege of being from the future; of having studied European history enough to know what worked and didn’t work in the people’s favor in the 900 or so years between the 12th century and 1969. For all the sorrow losing my family gave me, I had also been given a great gift and the opportunity to enrich the world in some way. Giving an important cultural movement like humanism an early start would be one way, thankless as it may be in the long-term.

Heloise and I left the servant’s quarters and walked about the castle gardens, we discussed the work of Saint Hildegard of the Rhineland, whom had recently passed away, and made plans to study her writings together. In my time, Hildegard is regarded as one of the first natural historians. I had recently taken an interest in chemistry and medicine, something Heloise and Gianna had previously shared. I knew only the very basics of 20th century first aid and field medicine experience, essentially everything I learned from camping, and that which Charlie had shared with me after he came back from Southeast Asia. I wanted to know what aspects of medieval medicine held up to what little I knew, and if I could improve it.

“I’ve only been trained in medicinal knowledge we have at the abbey, the wars have cut us off from almost everything else.”

The burden of care for the injured and sick fell entirely on the church, and with a lack of resources, they had been unable to purchase new documents from Constantinople, and especially not from Arab lands. I recalled Gianna’s dress that Heloise gave me. It wasn’t cheap.

“Heloise, why did you give me Gianna’s dress?” I asked

“Well, I can’t wear it” she giggled “ The dress fit me almost perfectly, and Heloise was much smaller than I. Although it was beautiful, it could serve a better purpose.

“Do you think we could sell it or trade it in for imported literature? It is a nice dress, and hardly worn”

“It is for you, Susana! I’ve already given it to you, you had nothing but rags when you arrived in Jerusalem.” I couldn’t recall if she was referring to my time-inappropriate sun dress, which had been confiscated from me, or the prison rags that replaced them.

“And it served me well, but I have these robes now, which I purchased with my own money. I think Gianna would have wanted her worldly possessions to aid in her passions after she has gone.

She pouted her tiny lips in thought, “There is a book reseller in the Old City who might be willing to trade, but everyone else in this kingdom only seems interested in gold.”

“We could ride Mongkut into the city on Friday after I have finished teaching, find a taker, and you can choose what texts might benefit the church” Even if we couldn’t trade with the bookseller, there were other ways to pawn off the dress in the old city.

Heloise wrapped her arms around me, she was tiny and bony, but she had a hell of a grip when she hugged people “Thank you, Susana, thank you so much.”

Heloise departed to take over her shift at the hospital, I had to prepare to tutor Baudoinet. I brought a basket of produce to the study and prepared a flashcard for the name of each one, Sybilla had told me the prince was not a fan of vegetables. I intended to make vegetables a little more exciting. I had another, larger wicker basket with a closed top, containing a surprise to help my effort.

With the boy sitting at the table, anticipating whatever I was about to do, I opened the larger wicker basket on top of the table, and out hopped an enormous white hare with red eyes, trained to jump in a circle when offered a treat. Baudoinet’s eyes immediately lit up with excitement, and I tempted him with a thin slice of carrot with which to get the rabbit’s attention.

“Name the vegetable before you feed it to the rabbit, your majesty.”

“ _Cah-wota_ ” he giggled, I gave him the slice with approval, he passed it to the hare, who crunched it vigorously.

“Carota, The orange root that gives you the eyes of a hawk. And this one?”

“ _Bussel spout_ ” he winced “eww”

“Oh my, what is this?” Sibylla asked after opening the heavy wooden door.

“The prince is motivated to learn less savory vocabulary” I smiled at Baudoinet as he stroked the relaxed rabbit. “His Latin comprehension is getting better every day, you ought to be proud.”

“This is wonderful, now if I can only get him to eat them.”

“A little encouragement helps, and children really love animal interaction” I stroked the rabbit’s snow-white forehead, causing its ears to flop to and fro.

“Susana, I regret that you and I can’t meet for lessons today, there is something i’d like to discuss with you.” she patted Baudoinet’s back “Away, sweetheart. Go with Eugenia.” Sibylla opened the door more to reveal the servant’s presence on the other side of the door, we smiled at each other from over Sibylla’s shoulder.

Baudoinet whined and stroked the rabbit two more times, hugging it once before running into the Anatolian servant’s arms. Sibylla came in and closed the door behind us.

“Do you need an extension on the essay assignment I gave you?” I joked

“It would be appreciated, but I simply cannot focus today” she took a seat on one of the ornate wooden chairs in the study, and pressed her index and middle finger to her temple. “You mustn’t say anything, but my brother is moving his troops out for another advance Northeast. He means to once again challenge Saladin. I cannot explain why, but I have a terrible feeling about what is to come.”

“Have you had any dreams?” I asked.

“One.” She whispered “Of him riding with a dispatch of soldiers amidst a battle, and being knocked from his horse by a saracen.”

Both of us were silent for a moment. I had a moment of lucidity of the breadth of everything that had happened. An age ago you couldn’t have gotten me to believe in haunted houses or karma. Now I found myself thrust back in time. It shouldn’t have been possible, but it was real. Everything around me was real and tangible. I had no reason to doubt that Sibylla’s prophetic dreams were any less real. I tried to think about what to say, but I couldn’t. “Forgive me, Sibylla” I asked plainly “But what would you have me do?”

“I’ve told him before he left that he needed to be cautious, and not try to fight outside what he is capable of.” At last, we were able to make eye contact “His condition gets worse after every battle. He is young, but the strain and injuries that fighting causes struggle to heal”

“Sibylla..” I was hesitant to disclose my conversation regarding last night’s ride with the king, but I had not given up on my dream of manufacturing penicillin. If not for him, then at least for the benefit of medicine, and for the hope that I could spare the world a few hundred years without any form of antibiotic. “I offered to cure him.” I spoke as clearly as possible.

“I knew you would, I know you probably can, too.” She smiled, pulling back her veil and freeing her hair, the reddish tint of which was now more visible in the invasive daylight coming through the window. “But he refused.”

“That he did.”

“I beg you to continue looking into your mysticism, then.”

“With all due respect, Sybilla, the cure for leprosy is through a panacea. Alchemy is an integration of mysticism and the observable. I would have to produce something that will take a great deal of time and effort to concoct”

“Without my brother, my mother will have the reigns of Jerusalem tied to her finger.”

“The lady Agnes?” I punctuated “But she is no longer the countess”

“She will decide on who the Latin Patriarch of Jerusalem will be in a few short days. You have lived within an arm’s reach of Rome, so perhaps you know how chaotic finding a successor to the Pope can be. For the kingdom of Jerusalem, the pope’s duty falls on the Latin patriarch. My mother is now the sole arbiter in what would have been a vote amongst cardinals.”

Evidently, the role of the Latin patriarch of Jerusalem was as vied for and feudal as successions of blood were among her lords.

“Heraclius” I blurted out “She will choose Heraclius.”

“Have you heard the rumors, too?” Sibylla asked, the golden ornaments of her clothing clicking together as she reclined on the daybed “That my mother is in bed with him? The rabble does have some gall to say the things they do.”

“What do you believe, Sibylla?” I turned to ask her “You too have prophetic gifts. What reason would Lady Agnes have to choose Heraclius over William?”

“Pragmatism. They are close, perhaps she sees enough of herself in him to make him useful.” She thought harder, completely still, save for her graceful ankles shaking involuntarily. “My brother is not a boy anymore, but she still tries to rule through him. Her campaigning is the reason he and I have claims to the throne at all.”

“And this is why you want me to make your brother well? To keep power impartial?”

“To keep it away from my mother, at least for a time. But if that isn’t a good enough practical reason, I'm asking you to do it because he is my brother, and because I've grown to trust you.”

Agnes had not been active in her children’s lives until Amalric, Jerusalem’s previous king, passed away

“Sibylla, if I do this, I will have to leave the county of Jaffa.”

“I didn’t want to tell you this. My son loves you, and your lessons have made him more vocal and outgoing.“ she pursed her lips “But from Acre my mother has been demanding that I release you from service, she doesn’t trust you as I do, and as Guy has come to.”

“Well, if you want to heal someone, I suppose I have to be near them. Will I at least be safe in Jerusalem?” I asked. I was slightly offended that the current countess was throwing me out on the grounds of the former countess not liking me, but did not contest her decision.  
“As if Christ himself were shepherding you. You have my word.” There was a sad enthusiasm in her tone of voice. Despite her urging, it sounded as if she was regretting asking to part ways. “You could find even more protection if you joined the church, they could classify you as a mystic and allow you to work in peace.”

“Am I still invited to your wedding, at least?” I asked playfully.

“Of course. Though you’ll have to see my mother in the same room, but most of the other guests hate each other, anyway.”

I shrugged. This had been an interesting turn of circumstances. There were worse ways to lose a job, after all.

\---

In the days that followed, I wrapped things up in Jaffa. I gave Ali the location of my apartment. He did not complain, citing Jerusalem’s urbanism as “more convenient”. Less simple was saying goodbye to my young student, Baudoinet. He cried when he saw that I was packing my things, and Eugenia allowed me time to hold him. I cried softly too as I stroked the little white-blonde tufts of his hair, and thought about how unlikely it would be that I would see him again, just as I may never see Isabella again. The former was being groomed to be king, and the latter back in the custody of her mother and stepfather, likely being shaped into a noble lady. I didn’t know much about the cognitive development of children, but Latin was Baudoinet’s second language, and at three years old, he managed to utter simple phrases like “Please don’t go” and “I want you here”. Like Isabella, he showed great intellectual promise. I hoped that I would be given the opportunity to see them again, and, God willing, save them from some terrible fate.

I said my farewells to Sibylla’s family. Guy, recovering from a rib fracture, even had himself carried out so that he could give me a proper thanks and say goodbye. He did not mention much else. His disrespect towards Sibylla’s family continued to rub me the wrong way, but I liked to believe he had a change of heart about me and my intentions.

I was still going with Heloise to Jerusalem, but it would be a 1-way trip. Though it was only a few hours walk, I did not know if I'd see the coastal tranquility of Jaffa again. I did not know if I would ever even see open water again.

At a crossroads, Heloise and I stopped briefly at an oasis. Jerusalem was not too far ahead, but the day was hot, and Mongkut’s designer breed seemed more prone to thirst. He also carried the burden of the worldly possessions of Heloise and I, and the literature I had collected for myself from the county’s archives. A satchel full of rare works attributed to Ovid and Cicero that I hand-copied and hoped to compile into something more digestible to readers.

Though we covered all but our eyes, Heloise and I still kept our wits about ourselves, as we were two women traveling alone in the desert. To a highwayman, we were easy prey. We had then tensed when we saw two soldiers in white and red garbs approaching us. Heloise had been the only one to recognize the arms of the knights’ templar posed no threat, but we both waved to greet them when we recognized them as Reynard and Bartolomeu.

“The two most bee-autiful women in Jerusalem, all covered and hidden away like wise old Solomon’s treasure. Woe is me.” Reynard teased, noting the full coverage clothing we wore to protect our skin from the sun.

“Fox, how could you talk to girls like that?.” Heloise crossed her arms “You took an oath of chastity.”

“Frankish damsel, in chivalry’s name, I have kept it! I am sir Galahad, the women may swoon at my good looks and purity, but none may claim it!”

“I’m a woman, I took the same oath, and i’m telling you you’re acting like a jackass!” she retorted.

“ _Domine_ , He drank before we left.” Bartolomeu sighed, pulling his own headscarf around his mouth, as if embarrassed to be seen with his red-headed companion. “He won’t shut the hell up about his knight stories, least its not as bad as it was before.”

“I know how to help him snap out of it” I grabbed the pot I had used to boil and purify our own drinking water, I drew it once more in the oasis and splashed it onto Reynard’s head, he spat and blinked twice, his red beard dripping as beads of water still crawled down his pale face.

“Wow, that sobered me up nicely” He ran his bare, calloused hand through his wet hair. He looked down at me, holding the offending bucket. “And Lady Susana’s eyes are no less beautiful. What are those twin pools doing in such an arid country?”

“We’re moving. I could ask the same of you, champion.” I pulled down my mask, exposing my face. In my own time, I would have thumbed my nose at him. “What brings you both back to the old city?”

“The selection of the new Latin Patriarch” he responded cheerfully, leading his horse to water before hopping off, the soles of his leather traveling shoes hitting the earth with a heavy thud. “It's not going to be a pretty scene, guess we have to keep order,”

“Shut up and drink your water, lest you have the mother of all headaches tonight.” Bartolomeu yelled.

“Let me boil that for you, first.” I insisted “Here, I'll restart the fire.”

Bartolomeu looked at me, puzzled. Heloise had been just as confused when I had brought an iron pot along for the reason of killing any microorganisms in the water. Survival 101 of the 21st century was folkish superstition in the 12th century.

“It burns away disease” I explained, trying to set aside his confusion.

“Did the countess kick you out for being odd?”

“Kind of.” I smiled, putting more coals on the embers.

\---

Jerusalem was a loud place full of many different kinds of people. It was just as Ali said, the city was filled with speakers of Arabic, Greek, and French, as well as Hebrew and some tongues I could not pinpoint at all, even from what I remember from the last two times I had found myself within the city’s walls. Reynard and Bartolomeu had accompanied Heloise and I. Traveling in the company of knights made us feel safer.

Of all places and times on earth, I had never associated the medieval world with apartments, but they were many in number throughout the near east. Mine was a dingy single room equipped with only some wooden shelving, a large window, and a well-worn, lumpy hay mattress that I was more than likely to pass over in favor of the floor that night. The room made even the ascetic Heloise’s eyes open wide in shock as she separated my scrolls from my garments and other belongings. To me, it could be worse, but it looked incredibly unpleasant compared to the room in the palace I had come from.

Heloise and I quickly made our way to the market, even past 2 in the afternoon, the marketplace should still be very active. In my arms I clutched the large woven satchel that protected Gianna’s dress from sun and dirt. The market was as loud as I expected, but pleasant and aromatic. Wide-eyed, curious urchins around the corner eyed the package I had slumped over my arm. Having spent most of my income at Jaffa on Ali’s tutoring, I had no money to give. I hoped they would still be about after I had found a buyer for the dress, so that I might buy them something to eat from a local vendor.

After approaching several stands, we had no luck selling the dress to a merchant. The market did not completely adopt French tastes, much less their fashion. Frustrated but not defeated, I plotted the second order of business; finding work in the morning that wasn’t mercantilism.

Heloise’s eye was caught by a stand filled with exotic seeds brought from the east. The merchant was of east asian descent, and wore the pastel, silk roads characteristic of merchants coming from Song China. Just as finely dressed was his camel, cheerfully plump and covered with colorful ribbons and beads from around the known world.

“Susana, it’s so cute.” She giggled “Might we stop for a moment”

God damn, the camel was cute, and the merchant was allowing other women to pet it. But I had to sell this dress before all of the shops began to close. “You go on ahead” I handed her a denier “If you go in there, ask him if he has any poppy seeds. Red flower, black center.” I had no intention of creating an opiate addiction in Jerusalem, but in controlled amounts, the seeds of the flower might make an excellent painkiller for wounded soldiers.

Our last resort for selling the dress was just across the way, a bookseller with a permanent shop inside one of the drab buildings lining the colorful market. I found one of the only entrances, unwelcoming as anything, save for the twinkling of tiny bells hanging near the entrance, stirring as I walked through them. Colorful sheets of chiffon and the smell of patchouli and oranges greeted me. Being a bookshop, tomes of various ages lined the walls of the shop, but their presence was distracted from by the decorum of deep blue and yellow. Sans the smell of a certain herb, it felt like I had walked into the office of a fortune teller on the California coast, and as if they were going to give me news that was both heartbreaking and desperately important.

“Who's there?” Called an unfriendly voice. The voice strolled out from another room to reveal a far more welcoming, matronly face, one which warped to distress when she saw me. She wanted to utter a single word, but couldn’t bring it past her wrinkled lips. “Who are you?”

“I’m Susana, I've only just arrived here from overseas, and then from Jaffa.” I suddenly felt very shy, even when I had been tried by the King and Princess, I didn’t feel like I was under such scrutiny as I was when meeting this stranger in a market.

“I was, ah. Wondering if I could sell you this dress.” I quickly undid the cover of the garment, revealing it to her.”

“This is a book store, child”

“And this is a nice dress of European make.” I responded “No doubt worth a generous amount to a frankish noblewoman.”

She stepped closer to me, although shorter, although one eye had been glazed over from cataracts her gaze was sharp and intimidating “You have strange eyes. What marvels could they have seen not catalogued in any book here?” One hand thumped on the dress I held in my arms, and her voice suddenly softened. “What do you want for it?”

Heloise pranced in on time, carrying a small paper rattling with poppy seeds. “I got as much as I could with that coin, Susana..” She locked eyes with the bookseller “Maria!”

“Heloise, my girl.” The two embraced, it was more of a sad embrace.

“I’m so sorry. Gianna had this dress and told me about a bookseller in Jerusalem that would take it in exchange for texts” Heloise began sniffling again “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was you, i’m sorry if i’ve caused you pain by coming here.”

“It’s alright, child.” Maria shushed. “Oh God, Gianna, my poor sweet little girl.. She would be pleased knowing you came to see me.”

“ _Mea maxima culpa_ , I didn’t know.” I clutched the dress tighter to myself, saddened that I may have disturbed an old woman mourning her daughter.

“Its alright my dear, forgive me for my callous reception of you.” She gently pulled away from Heloise and put a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for bringing me Gianna’s dress, I have an extensive collection of medical texts here, you may both help yourselves to whatever may help you.”

“Oh! Maria, this is Susana, she is seeking to enter the king’s service.” Heloise piped a late introduction.

“Is she? The King is a bit of a shut-in nowadays. The best way to get through to him would be through the Archbishop of Tyre, his mentor.” She looked at me once more, her inquisitiveness had not faded with her change of demeanor “Assuming he is named the new latin patriarch this week, and doesn’t have to return to Tyre.”

“Is he in town at all now?” my mind began racing. Archbishop William would certainly not be picked by Agnes, though he seemed the most likely candidate.

“He is, nearly everyone who's anyone to the church is here now, even though the choice falls on Lady Agnes alone”

After our brief reconciliation, Heloise and I looked through the many and assorted titles on the shelves. I couldn’t help but notice how modern Maria’s method of organizing them had been to the 21st century dewey decimal system. Being meticulous about organization myself, I appreciated her method amidst a world of hasty and fragmented methods of cataloguing.

“Hildegard and Alhazan” Heloise loomed over two tomes. “New imports. This was what Gianna was looking for.”

“Maria, have you any books on alchemy?”

“Very few, I fear.” She chuckled, “I was a spiritual healer, in my time. This place used to be an apothecary. I leave that to the younger ones now, had to quit because I can’t grind the mortar-and-pestle like I used to.” She looked back at me “But is it the mysticism that interests you?”

“Creating medicine does, but I believe I have a natural gift which could make me useful.”

“Have you considered joining the Benedictines?” She asked “You could be tested as a mystic, even behind monastic walls, you’d be allotted more creative freedom than you would here, believe me.” She extended one upturned palm in the direction of the backroom area she had first emerged from. “Follow me, both of you.”

Heloise and I complied, following Maria to the back room. Maria took a hasty duster made of bound kestrel feathers and tickled it against a pile of old yellow glass beakers and tubes. “Don’t be fooled by the coloration” She grumbled “They’re perfectly good, and yours.”

“Maria, thank you, but I can’t afford all this yet.” I was awestruck, examining the range of utilities. I was no scientist, but I knew that I would need basic equipment to process penicillin, and whatever painkiller I could make from the poppy seeds Heloise still held in her hands.

“Don’t need to, it's a waste of space. I could turn this room into a taxidermy collection, and charge entrance. Anything to make it profitable.”

“My apartment is so small, it won’t fit any of this.”

Maria thought for a moment “You may use this room as a lab, then. 3 deniers a month.” I looked at the wooden table, contemplating, though she continued on.”I’ve tried selling them before, it seems a waste to just throw everything away.”

3 deniers seemed high, but this would be a good start.

“I accept your offer.”

“Over there are my old textbooks, too. Compiled centuries of alchemical knowledge. You may rummage through them as you like.” She concealed her hands in the oversized, beige sleeves of her robes. “I’ve no doubt you’ll impress me with your work.”

Heloise and I left in late dusk, I helped her carry the heavy tomes to the sepulchre, where she would remain. From the holy sepulchre, I could see the lights coming from the distant palace, there was bound to be a great amount of activity that night, and conflict with the Queen Mother’s presence. When I first arrived in the 12th century, my only goal had been self-preservation, but I now found myself attempting to turn myself into a pawn in a great game where every other pawn thought itself a player. I wondered if the king was inside, or how he felt about his own mentor being turned down for the role of patriarch. By now, it was too late and unlikely I could do anything about William of Tyre’s situation, but perhaps I could take advantage of his current presence in the city.

\---

I hurried back to my broom-closet apartment and quickly changed into my red scholarly robes. I had no jewelry save for my mother’s cross, which I always wore since arriving in Jerusalem. I wanted to hurry to the palace so I would have as much time as possible to seek out William of Tyre. Unable to find time for my hair, I wrapped my messy braid back into a red velvet hair wrap. I definitely was not going to be a stunner at a noble social gathering, but I would blend in well enough to avoid confrontation with the guards.

It was very dark by the time I arrived, I took alternative routes to avoid dirtying my shoes before I arrived. The palace gates were surrounded by flowers and trees thanks to irrigation, and the sounds from inside and from birds would have concealed my presence. Although I was tempted, I wanted to avoid doing any more crazy things, especially crashing the party in a time where intruders were simply hunted down with swords.

There were four guards at the gate, I approached one with a helmet that seemed too big for his body, hoping he’d be more submissive.

“Hello, can I come in?” I asked shyly.

 _Real slick, Suzanne_. I scolded myself as he simply stared at me, silently.

“He doesn’t know what you’re saying. What business do you have here, Latin?” The other, larger guard barked at me. The one I had approached was the one that did not speak Latin.

“I’m Susana, I am the now-relieved mentor of the crown prince. I have come to accept an offer for assistance to the Archbishop of Tyre”

“The crown prince is three years old” He responded in his grisly voice.

“The formative years of a child’s life! The first three years can guarantee a great start to his intellect.” He wasn’t buying it, but I couldn’t steer away from my story. It was time for Plan B. I rummaged around in the pocket of my robed for something from the other morning, and pulled out a folded piece of parchment.

“But if that isn’t enough, I was invited by the king himself to witness Lady Agnes’ declaration.” I handed him the letter that the king had sent me a few days prior.

Just as I expected, the guard glanced at it and said three words; “I can’t read.” He folded the letter back up “But this is the king’s royal seal. Go on in.”

“Thank you, sir.” I smiled, quickly strolling through the gate, relieved, before he called me back.

“Wait, Latin. We aren’t done yet.” He yelled after me. “ _Gascogne_ , come over here.”

I turned back to see another soldier, wearing the pale blue arms of Jerusalem. He had hurried over to the guard that had let me in. Said guard turned back to me “This soldier will escort you to the king’s quarters, there will be guards present that can confirm the contents of this letter.”

“ _Damn it_ ” I thought to myself as the new guard walked beside me into the palace and down several eerily empty hallways. I had lied my way in to the palace, and the people protecting the king were going to be the first to find out. “ _God-fucking-damnit._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Few people were literate in the 12th century, particularly women. An educated woman of 12th century Europe would either be wealthy or be a nun/abbess. Ordination was a common way for medieval women to be educated.  
> \- The revival of ancient ideas would be crucial in the humanist movement, which is directly correlated with the Italian renaissance. The Renaissance marks the end of the medieval period, and even though the period is known as being a golden age of the arts, it also signalled a loss of dependence on mysticism, and a renewed interest in science and secular studies.  
> \- Medieval clothing is all handmade, there was always a market for a dress. A lightly used dress could be resold for cheaper, much like how reselling works today.


	8. Lunatique

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Lunatique'; an Old French term derived from Late Latin 'lunaticus' "moon-struck," from Latin luna "moon" (based on the archaic belief that the phases of the moon caused insanity)
> 
> Susana meets the King in his apartments, has a meaningful conversation with her tutor, and attempts to recreate modern medicine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of Drug Use (Suzanne trying to create an Opiate as a painkiller)
> 
> Check End Notes for some Historical Contexts: Let me know if there is anything I should go into depth on and i'd be happy to explain it as best I can. 
> 
> Something I want to mention: My favorite director, Franco Zeffirelli, director of films such as Romeo and Juliet (1968), Hamlet (1990, the one with Mel Gibson) and Tea with Mussolini (1999) recently passed away. With a career spanning half a century, he was incredibly talented and I'm pleased he lived such a long, fulfilling life. I felt the need to mention this because his 'Juliet' (Played in 1968 by Olivia Hussey, jump starting her career) is pretty close to how I imagine Suzie looking like. I know its silly, but when I started writing this story, I actually started digging for historical drama film characters to use as a visual aid to help inspire me write. I kept coming back to Olivia Hussey as Juliet despite the different time period (Time travelers, man). I first saw the film when I was in High School, and its one of my favorite Shakespeare adaptations of all time. There is an affectionate playfulness and curious look to the 1968 Juliet that I wanted to capture in writing. I don't like the term "face claim" but Zeffirelli helped shape a version of Juliet that deeply inspired me, as all of his Shakespearean and original films have. R.I.P. Franco, 1923-2019

Chapter 8 : Lunatique

The guard’s footsteps were a loud, brazen tempo on the alabaster-white floor, and yet the only rhythm I could hear was the pounding of my heart. The only way I could get out of this one was if the king himself intervened, which was unlikely. I had imagined him occupied by the event occurring below.

At last we stopped at the opening of a long hallway, illuminated by the thin chandeliers that fell in silvery threads from the high ceiling. All of the guards were dressed alike, each one indiscernible from the next, not that it mattered, I had few friends in this city.

The guards interacted in French. I could sum up their possible introduction as “ _ Southside wants to know if this is an invitation _ ” my escort handed my letter over to the guard at the hallway entrance. “ _ For this woman here. _ ” He gestured to me.

The receiver looked over the letter and yelled something at the guard, turning the scenario into a shouting match in a language I did not understand.

A tall, greying man wearing the royal colors emerged from a conversation with another guard. “ _ The Kings’ guard does not speak Latin, that’s the Templars. Harass them with the message or remove.. _ ” His aged eyes locked on to my own “ _ remove her _ .”

“Sir, please, can you help me?” I stood on my toes and waved to seize his attention. “Please? I don’t speak French.”

“ _ One moment _ .” He dismissed himself from conversation with the guard “My lady, I apologize for the inconvenience, this shift does not normally receive the convent.”

“I’m, ah, not from the church.” I explained “I’ve come to speak with the archbishop of Tyre, but if he will not receive me, the King will suffice.”

He had a deep laugh one would expect from an old soldier that still had his sanity. “‘The King will suffice’?” He took the letter from the guard, eyed the blue seal and began looking over the letter. “Who on earth are you?” He walked closer to me, likely inspecting my face to find a familiar relation “I had sworn I saw you among the sisters once, though. What is your name?”

“Susana.” I responded slowly. “I just arrived from Jaffa, prior to that, the Florentine Republic, I was elementary educator for the crown prince.”

“You were?” He emanated with curiosity “I've never heard of a woman educating a future king, but it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you, ah..”

“Count Raymond”

“Forgive me sir. I’m still learning everyone’s name and face.” I curtsyed, realizing I just failed to recognize the Count of Tripoli. The night just kept getting better and better. 

“Well, I hope mine will be as easy to remember as yours.” he had a pleasant smile, with grey facial hair peppering his cheeks and jaw. From what I had read, he must have only been about forty, but war and the strains of medieval life had advanced his age, as it did many others. “This is not a formal invitation, Susana.” he folded the paper back up gingerly and handed it to me. “I acknowledge your services to the kingdom, but I cannot let you stay here during such a fragile political event”

“I must have grabbed the wrong letter.” I dismissed, smiling. My displeasure was better buried, and I realized the consequence of my impatience. “I don’t want to disturb anyone further, I will leave.”

“What has happened, count Raymond? Who calls?” To my surprise, the king emerged in his white finery. Every guard moved to attention, save for the Count, who bowed his head in respect. As usual, I stood out like a sore thumb, or a preschooler anxiously clutching a bad report card in her tiny fists.

“‘Tis a woman scholar, of all things, my King.” The count responded, looking towards me, he gave a nod that encouraged me to speak.

“Your Majesty” I swallowed, though my throat had already long since gone dry “There has been a misunderstanding. I’m sorry for inconveniencing you, I should go before I cause any further-”

“Enough, enough now.” He looked past the confines of his mask, past the guards, and directly at me. “Susana, would it be presumptuous to think you have come to discuss my requests?”

I knew a hint when I saw one. “It would not, your majesty.” I tapped the letter to my chin.

“Allow her in, I do not need personal attendance in business matters.”

The guard who escorted me asked, in French, and in disbelief, about the possibility of me meaning harm.

“ _ If she injures me, then I will scream _ .” He responded, he waved me to follow him in.

“Have, a um..” Count Raymond called after me, confused. ”Have a good night, my lady.” 

“Thanks, you too”. I spun back around to, too overcome with relief to make time for more formalities.

He shut the loud, weighted doors. “Welcome to Jerusalem.” he saluted.

I fell to my knees. I could have hugged the king right then and there, had it been appropriate at all. “Thank you!” I clasped my hands together, I must have looked absolutely pathetic “Thank you your majesty, I was so scared they’d send me back to prison for trespassingl.”

“And then they’d throw you out of one of the dullest important political events of the decade” He responded.

“I was actually more concerned about having my head chopped off for stepping too close to the gates” I replied

“Beheaded?” he scoffed “My lady, this is not Florence, but we franks are not savages. ”He took my arm and gently pulled me in the direction of the window “come, let us sit, i’m sure you didn’t go through all that trouble to see me just to talk about something as morbid as execution.”

By then it would have been impolite to tell him I was actually looking for William. Following up on the King’s letter seemed unavoidable now, but I had become curious about why the King wasn’t present for Agnes’ council meeting.

“Well, no, but I must ask.” I tried to word the question in the most dignified manner possible, so as to recover my image “Why aren’t you present for the announcement of the Latin Patriarch?”

“It was a trade, in order to allow Sibylla to take over as countess of Jaffa and Ascalon, I allowed my mother the sole privilege of choosing Jerusalem’s Catholic head.” He sat on the edge of a lounge chair opposite me. “My mother is an ambitious woman, but I must balance power amongst all of the nobility. An arbiter and countess with the soldiers she possesses isn’t a mere noblewoman- shes a queen.”

“I’m sure it being boring must not help, either.” We both sat down.

“Truly” he laughed softly “For all the responsibilities I must fulfill in wearing this crown, I am at least grateful for the ability to walk away from them.”

“Now that you have mentioned your mother” I continued “And I mean no offense by this, I'm certain she is an intelligent woman with reasons for doing so, but I'm concerned about my future. Lady Agnes was the one who had me removed from my position as tutor to your sister and nephew.”

“I felt it would happen, and I am disappointed in Sibylla for showing weakness in her role.” A young servant, a youth of about fifteen brought us a brass tray with two chalices and a silver jug, weeping with condensation. “But you need not worry. I promise to be a bit more protective of you.” His words comforted me. Baldwin took a silver chalice and scooped up crushed ice from within a small ice chest.

“Where did that come from?” Ice had been the last thing I had expected to find beyond Northern Europe.

“North of the Rhine, if the journey can be made fast enough.” he took a silver jug and poured a golden liquid into the silver glass. “Here, try this.”

I took the pretty cup between my fingers and savoured the first sip. It was pomegranate, spiced with a bit of clove and sweetened with honey. I closed my eyes with enjoyment. “Delicious.” I had not enjoyed a single cold drink since I arrived, and I had avoided sweets due to my inability to create a makeshift toothbrush. For a moment, I was filled with nostalgia, and.

“I’ve never been one for sweets, but I've found spiced pomegranate delectable on a dry night such as this.”

“Why don’t you have some?” I swished the icy drink in my chalice, in the same fashion my glamorous aunt always did “This ice is probably as good as gone tomorrow, might as well enjoy it.”

“I’ve drank my fill before you arrived.” he leaned back once more. “I never did ask, but I have always been curious- that cross around your neck..”

“It was my mother’s” I took the bottom stem of my mother’s cross between my thumb and index finger and spun it gently “She died when I was still a girl, I remember feeling the cool metal against my skin every time she picked me up or hugged me” I looked as far down as I possibly could, and thumbed the empty slot where ruby was once inlaid. “There used to be a stone here, I did not wear it for awhile, I must have lost it during that time.”

“How awful” He consoled, inching forward. “May I?” He asked for permission to examine the cross. I nodded and pulled my robes down my sides until they sat on the daybed. He moved and sat beside me so that the white chiffon of his sleeves were pressed against me, through which I felt the warmth of his body. “I’ve never seen a design like this before, but I will have my jeweler place a new ruby within.”

“Oh, your majesty, you need not give me such a gift, not after all you’ve already done for me.” I looked up to meet his eyes before realizing I had missed a minor detail “Your majesty, how did you know that it was a ruby I was missing?”

“I.. well, i’m not sure. The design is strange, but the cross is familiar. Perhaps because red connotes the burning heart of Christ.” He responded thoughtfully “I do at least insist you allow me to consult the court jeweller, i’ve no doubt he will do magnificent work.”

“Very well” I accepted. Shy as I was to accept the gift, I was not enthusiastic about turning down a new rock. I turned to the right and adjusted the chain so that I might find the toggle clasp and remove it from my neck.

“Allow me.” I must have taken a little too long to find the clasp, as Baldwin offered to do so himself. I drew my hands away from my neck and turned, surrendering the chain to him. With his bandage-swaddled hand, he turned the chain about. His mask, along with long-term effects of leprosy, likely obscured some of his close-range vision. He inched closer to me, so close that I felt his warm breath flowing through the holes in his mask. 

“There” He stated after undoing the clasp with his gloved hand, holding the cross in the other. “ _ Hither _ ” He called in French to the servant that brought us our drink; a young man of Arabic descent. He was quite thin, but well-groomed and likely no older than fifteen, with curly hair and an opaque mustache. Baldwin handed off the cross to him.

Ignorant to customs, I pulled two coins from my pocket I felt would be an acceptable tip “Here’s for your trouble” I offered it to him in Arabic.

“ _ Your majesty _ ” The youth panicked “ _ This woman means to bribe me _ ”

“Nonsense, accept her gift” the king retorted. The boy accepted the coins as I dropped them in the palm of his hand. He then took one last look at me and ran off. “A cultural misunderstanding” He clarified “But he is a good lad, careful and conscious. I hope you do not take any offense”

“It is a custom where I am from to compliment the help” I responded. “No harm done” I shrugged my shoulders, then fully noticing the bare sensation of the cross’s absence. I considered every cross I had seen since I arrived. Like a symbolic shield, they decorated people, places, and things across the crusader kingdom, but I had yet to see the most influential one.

“Your majesty, is it true you have a piece of the true cross?” I asked “One which Jerusalem’s army carries into battle?”

“In a reliquary, the very same I prayed to on the eve of my first great victory” He said, voice glowing with nostalgia. “You will see it again soon, when we emerge victorious after the next battle against Saladin.”

This must be the battle Sibylla foresaw. I was starting to imagine the outcome of the battle, but was not yet certain of which, of many, it would be. I wasn’t too great in remembering dates, and had not found the time or need to review the  _ Oxford History _ book I had traveled with.

“Is there no way to negotiate with Saladin, your majesty?” I implored. “I went to the market today, and saw many impoverished children running about. If peace is possible, perhaps Jerusalem’s resources could be put to better use.”

“I know too well of the poverty within the kingdom, but I must consider its immediate safety.If there is room negotiation, Saladin has not given me the choice” He took me by the arm gently, guiding me to a great strategy table with a map on it. After slowly letting go, he rolled a pointer inbetween the fingers of his gloves, and traced its point around Sidon, the area which would one day be the lower half of Lebanon. “Raiding parties have scorched the earth here, here, and here. If we move to meet him here” He pointed slightly more inland “We can stop Saladin’s encroachment before it truly cripples us.”

I recognized the area as the site as the home of another battle during World War 2, a town that would be called Marjayoun. Unlike the Allied Powers, however, Frankish Jerusalem’s battle would be meet a far less favorable end. Baldwin would survive, but with Sibylla’s intuition, and the involuntary superstitiousness that came with being thrust 900 years into the past, I was no longer certain of anything. 

“I really don’t think you should go, your majesty” my voice cracked, as I tried to weave together every feeling I had in that moment into something resembling advice “I know this will not end well”

“Even if we win, there will be losses” He looked at me as he stated poignantly, “That is the reality of war, all victories are strictly political.”

“The Grandmaster of the Knights Templar will die” I announced “Dozens of others taken prisoner. The call for war is sabotage, but none have been harmed yet, are there no other options?”

“Even if there were, I cannot tell the Templars to stand down, nor Count Raymond’s to withdraw his troops. The Templars are tasked with protecting the faithful, and many of the wounded party fall under his jurisdiction. What of their families and property?.”

I wanted to respond by saying that ‘I wish there was another way’, but I knew there was. There is no one grand moment in history where one does not look back and wonder if they had done something differently.

“War is no place for someone with as much sympathy as you.” He rested his hand on my shoulder. I cast my eyes down, and stared into the empty space between my eyes and the golden cross of Jerusalem embroidered into his clothing. 

“You’re right your majesty,” I once again met his eyes “I loathe the vicious cycle of revenge, but that is why war will always matter to me. Right over might; the sanctity of human life, the value of diplomacy and wisdom, the well-being of friends and strangers, et cetera, et cetera.” I saw within his pale blue eyes the reflection of candlelight. With a tyrant I might have imagined a raging inferno, but a warm glow, unburning, was all I found within.

He put one hand behind the back of his neck and turned around, pacing about.

“I hope I have not overstepped my boundaries, your majesty.” I called him “Forgive my outspokenness, but I could not let you proceed with this campaign without telling you how it ends.”

“Not at all.” he responded thoughtfully “The musings of a king are always laced with a desire for simplicity.” He looked towards the balcony, which wrapped around the side of the castle “Come, let's try to enjoy whatever we can of the night.”

I followed him to the balcony, directly overhead was the moon. The moon and starlight in the ancient city never ceased to amaze me, having lived in a large city myself, I was used to light pollution and a lack of stars. But in medieval Jerusalem, the stars never stopped shining. I wondered often if I was looking at the same sky that King David and the Canaanites once gazed upon.

“Its so bright” He awed at the brightness of the moon  “I wonder how it changes.”

“Sunlight that is now touching the other side of the earth reflects off of the surface of the moon” I sat on the concrete wall of the balcony “As the earth’s position around the sun changes, so too does the part of the moon that is illuminated.” The servant, still standing idly in the corner, suddenly turned to look at me . I smiled quickly at him in acknowledgement, realizing my mistake. “ _ Mea culpa, _ I meant as the sun and moon move around the earth.”

“Truly?” He responded, inquisitive as ever “I never thought of the moon having a surface.”

“Yes, though one would need a special outfit, and a mechanism that procures breathable air, but it can be walked upon.” Ensuring I hadn’t lost his attention, I kicked off the tractionless slippers I wore and crawled up onto the broad wall that lined the balcony. “The surface of the moon is a great, silver desert.”

“Susana, what are you doing?” He asked, “Have you gone mad?”

“I’m not a madwoman, your majesty, where I come from, this knowledge is the result of thorough research.” I explained as I walked down to one end of the balcony. In truth I was glad to take the slippers off after walking the entire day, and my wool stockings were as good a barrier between the hard concrete and my tired soles as any. “And this is best explained through demonstration. Now, when you walk, imagine a resistance as you try to complete each step.” I walked slowly back towards him, arms slightly outstretched to maintain balance. I face forward towards the apartment, “Now, imagine this leap taking twice as long.” I lowered my right foot over the ledge, but my left gave as it slipped under the loose fabric of the sock, and I stumbled to the ground.

“ _ Dammit! _ ” I cursed in English as I slipped, Baldwin caught me, deceptively strong. 

“Are you okay, your majesty?” I asked worriedly.

“Excuse me?” He responded, surprised “I’m not the one who just fell from the heavens.” He brushed loose strands of my hair behind my ear, his soft glove sending tingles from my cheekbone all the way down to my neck.

“I guess that was me demonstrating a force called ‘gravity’” I responded amusedly “The very power that draws falling objects to the earth”

“Informative, but I do hope you haven’t taught my nephew the art of recklessness.” He joked. “All in the name of science.”

“Even if I tried, he likely has more sense than I.” I laughed still, against his shoulder. I had then realized that he was still holding me in his arms. I pushed away gently, not due to my discomfort, but due to my mindfulness of his own. I was quietly embarrassed, but reasserted myself quickly. A symphony of voices from the interior of the lower halls signalled something interesting must have happened.

“Well, I hope that means it's over” He sighed. For a moment, I had thought he meant something

“And that I should probably depart with the rabble.” I cast my eyes back up “I should go, I am disturbing your rest.” I turned to leave, hoping he would not see how red my face was turning.

“Susana“ He called out after me “When you express concern for friends and strangers, which one am I?” He asked

“A very good friend, your majesty,” I felt my throat turn to stone, and my heart race as if I had just sprinted across the continent. I realized how I had come to enjoy his company. Flustered as I was, I turned to him. I wanted to see him, I had to see him. “And my life would be poorer without you. I cannot let you go forward with this campaign without telling you the outcome”

“We depart in a week.” he replied “I would like it if you came to say goodbye- if you wish, that is.”

“If I don’t show up, do not think it was because I think ill of you, your majesty.” For a few moments I tasted my bittersweet words. He was my friend, yes, but I could not join the enthusiastic masses as they cheered the march of soldiers to a doomed battle.

“Then God keep and protect you.” he responded, so quietly I almost couldn’t hear him.

“And you.” I pushed the heavy doors open and gave him one last smile before I left. Despite the contentedness of his mask, I imagined the displeasure beneath.

As I left the way I came in, I walked past several groups celebrating the name of Heraclius, the new Latin patriarch. Some were drunk, and I pulled my robes back over my shoulders and over my head so that I might pass through the palace unnoticed. It worked until I reached the fully-lit interior of some congregational hall. I paused from my mission to look  at one whom immediately caught my eye was a tall, beautiful woman. Her resemblance to Sibylla immediately reminded me that she was the same woman I had met before court, Agnes. When she locked eyes with me, I had expected some sort of hateful glare, instead she seemed disappointed. I left immediately out of the nearest door, leaving undetected among the others.

My walk back to my dingy apartment was marred with thoughts about the king. I took pity on him for the difficult decisions he had to make. A King had to balance justice, politics, and goodness all at once. I could never understand his struggle, but at the heart of it, I felt that I would do anything to make it easier for him.

I began to drive myself mad thinking about seeing him again.  _ What the hell is wrong with you? _ I chastised myself. I could not, in my conscience, join in the celebration of a deadly-send off. On the other hand, I considered the possibility that I had just compromised any hope of victory by breaking his morale.

I began wondering how, or if I could make this right.

When at last I got home, I thought of the gentleness of his laughter in the deathly silence of the 1-room apartment. I tossed a woven blanket onto the floor and curled up onto it. As I drifted off to sleep, I hugged my arms around myself. I could sleep anywhere, but remembering the luxe, comfortable room I had been in less than an hour ago, in good company no less, brought its own degree of want and loneliness.

Throwing flowers amidst calls for war had a different meaning here than it did back home. In my own time, anti-war protestors used flowers as symbols of peace and harmony in non-violent protests. In the medieval expanse of Europe, one would throw flowers at soldiers before and after battles, celebrating great victories, and celebrating a culture of war.

I remembered the seeds of Poppy flowers I kept with me, and my intentions with it. With Maria’s apothecary equipment, I could try to create painkillers with the poppyseeds, and would try my best to create something that could preserve life, rather than destroy it. If I could do this, and meet the Knights Hospitaller before battle, perhaps I could fulfill my intent to save lives, rather than take them.

\---

Ali arrived at my apartment for the next few mornings, and each day his sessions took place outdoors. The first time he saw my new home, perhaps he was expecting something more glamorous, or something that could compete with the palace I had just arrived from.

“Shall we have outdoor class again today?” He asked as I broke bread with him for breakfast.

“That’d be great, Ali” I responded immediately.

We both strolled along the borders of the city. My spoken Arabic was far better than my written, but Ali insisted that with practice comes perfection, as it would with Greek.

“I had an incident at the palace yesterday” I mentioned. “All of the guards at the Patriarch’s induction spoke French, and tried to arrest me.”

“They do that to me at customs.” Ali laughed “Most of the time if you speak poor French to them, they leave you alone.”

“I didn’t know you traded, Ali.” I asked, still in Arabic

“I do during the late Winter season, and I’ve inherited my late father’s business.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“It was a long while ago” he sighed “We both fought with Saladin at Montgisard, I lost sensation in my left arm, but he lost his life.”

“I often wish these wars would end.” I lamented, “Call me mad, but I would like a future where Abraham’s children no longer maim one another.”

“When the whole world has gone mad, the voice of reason will always seem the mad one.” He laughed “I’ve traveled a lot, Susana. I’ve been south of the Sahara, i’ve been to the far east and even the Balkans. I’ve met a lot of good people; Muslims, Christians, Jews, and Pagans. I’ve seen Allah’s goodness in all of them.” We both passed beneath the Dome of the Rock and its adjacent mosque, both of which were Islamic holy sites that then served as the headquarters of the Knight’s Templar.

“I hope more people can be as understanding as you and I are” I sighed

“As do I” He said despondently, before changing his tune “My wife is an Ethiopian, you know. I met her in the Sultanate of Shiwa. My mother didn’t approve at first, because of how different our customs were.” He turned his head towards a nearby field, irrigated by runoff from the ducts that provided water to the city. “Oh? Let's go see what has grown here.”

“You were saying about your wife?” I followed him, keeping up as he increased his pace.

“It took time, but my mother saw how good and faithful my wife is, and she offered her blessings when my father couldn’t. Now they are friends, I think my mother sees the world differently now.” He bent down and picked up a red flower from the damp earth. “Wildflowers, but my wife prefers white and yellow.”

I examined the red flower in his hand and identified it as a Poppy, hopefully ones with similar properties to what the vendor at the market sold “I’ll take the red ones. I’ve been researching, I think I can use them as medicine.”

I gave him a hand, picking and bundling up Iris and Colchicum. High winds must have blessed the city with a diversity of seeds, and we created a magnificent bouquet of white and yellow sweet-smelling wildflowers.

“Ali, I'm currently out of work, so this is the last day I will be able to learn from you.” I was sad to break off his services, as he had been an amazing teacher, and I genuinely felt more comfortable and mobile in Jerusalem after learning everything he had taught me.

“You could have been done with me long ago, Susa, i’ve no doubt you’ll succeed on your own.” He pulled a small band of fabric from his pocket and bound the bouquet together “ _ Inshallah _ , we will meet again, in this city or another.”

We parted ways; I with an apron full of red poppies, Ali with an arm full of irises and daffodils. I thought deeply about the affection I just witnessed from Ali toward his wife. He overcame his mother’s bias to be with a foreign woman he happened to love, and he showed his love for her in small ways, like finding flowers he knew she’d love. I could have teased myself, I felt an innocent envy of that kind of love. Aside from two stolen kisses in High School and a drunken make-out session in my prom date’s beaten-up Chevy truck, I realized that in my own time, I had never felt true romantic love. I loved my friends and family, but I had not loved in the way that made me want to cross boundaries and give anything to be with another person.

\---

When I arrived at Maria’s, I placed all of the poppies in a basket and returned to the large glass jars I was cultivating penicillin inside of. Ideally, if I had more time, I would have taken various samples and grown them alongside bacteria. This would show me which fungal strain simply prevented the bacteria from growing. Without a microscope, I had to rely on my senses alone, and memory of what the penicillin fungus looked like as it grew on fallen oranges.

From what I remembered, penicillin had to be filtered. With my pockets begging for mercy, I reluctantly spent more of my savings on small handkerchiefs of undyed, fine silk from the market outside. The porousness was as minimal as medieval fabrics got, and it could be re-used if I was careful when cleaning it. I tied the silk around the ends of tubes I would use to filter the boiled penicillin twice

“Have you eaten supper, yet?” Maria interjected as I began boiling the fungal culture in water, I shook my head.

“Have you eaten at all, today?” She crossed her arms.

“I had some bread this morning”

“Come on while you wait for that to heat up, i’ve made supper.”

Sandwiches, meat and vegetables wedged between slices of bread, were an 18th century invention, so one could imagine my surprise as Maria handed me a plate of cured salmon, shredded cabbage, and a black vinegar-selling sauce between two slices of flatbread.

“This is amazing!” I said through bites, trying to cover my mouth. The taste was actually a bit too savory for my taste, but was palatable given how little I had been eating in an attempt to preserve my savings.

“You know, Susana. I can forgo rent if you like.”

I swallowed my food. “Do you mean that?”

“I do, if you’re willing to help out around the shop.” She pulled down her headscarf to reveal a head full of dark, greying hair. “Hell, you’ve been spending so much time in there, you might as well move in.”

“That’s kind, Maria, but where would I sleep?”

“There’s room back there, right? More than in your apartment?” I thought about asking how Maria knew how big my apartment was, but she seemed like someone who just knew every facet of Jerusalem like the back of her hand.

“You’ve got a deal.” I responded. She was a strange old woman, but meant well. She also seemed to genuinely enjoy having me around. Hopefully that would last.

I waited for the slow drip of the boiled penicillium to pass through three filters, which gave me enough time to separate the poppy seeds from the flowers. Maria had pressed me for my intentions with the poppies. She accepted the “painkiller for surgeries” intention I stated, but seemed strangely apprehensive about having the flowers under her roof.

2 days later, after soaking the poppy seeds for 48 hours the water had turned thick and black. After using a screen to pull the seeds out, I had to test its potency. It was late, and Maria had retired to her loft upstairs. I wasn’t in pain, and my menstrual cramps had passed, but I couldn’t find it in my conscience to test a drug I was basically bullshitting the creation of. At this point, if I knew the Opium made me feel some kind of high, I had done it right.

After closing up the shop, I took a small swig of the black, gummy concoction. For a few minutes, I didn’t feel anything, so I swept and cleaned up the shop. As I was shaking the dust off of one of the rugs outside the door, the Opium goo hit me. I felt warm, and like the world was spinning. I tossed the rug back inside and leaned against the door frame, unable to register a young man running towards the door. Even in my state, I was able to recognize him; the servant boy from the palace.

“Are you okay?” he asked in Arabic, looking at me as I sweated, eyes darting back and forth.

“Great.”

“This is from the king” He handed me two white lilies, bound together with twine, alone with a small letter closed with the royal blue seal.

“Thanks” I huffed, “Wait, how did he know I moved here?”

“He didn’t, he just asked me to find you.”

I remembered how I tipped him when I first met, “I don’t have money right now, sorry.” I admitted guiltily.

“Its fine.” He responded “Have a good night.”

After he left, I crudely locked the door behind me and stumbled into my room. As I passed through the doorway, I brushed the mess of my hair back, and in the process, smacked my arm against the frame.

“I didn’t feel that” I murmured to myself “I didn’t feel that!” I repeated, more excitedly. It was strong, and made you feel unpleasant, but I had created a primitive form of painkiller that could be used for surgeries.

\---

I laid down and waited for the feeling to pass, holding the flowers in my hand. I fell asleep for hours, once again dreaming of my family. I had nightmares about Vietnam, I dreamt of the Viet Cong ambushing Charlie and his comrades and spraying them with bullets. I tried to run to him to grab him, to escape from the jungle. It was no use. As he sat their firing his gun, it felt like trying to pull from the earth a boulder away from the spot it's been in for millions of years. I awakened as the world was still dark. My head was pounding, and I got up to drink a cup of water, careful to make sure I didn’t accidentally drink the same sludge I ingested the night before. As I sipped from the tin cup, I looked at the letter and flowers clenched between my fingers all night. I frowned and put the lilies in the tin cup and poured more water inside. They were incredibly beautiful, but I had bent, thankfully not broken the stems with my carelessness.

I cracked open the small letter and read the fine handwriting.

 

_ As I prepared myself to march out with my troops, I saw these two lilies blooming beneath my balcony. They were not planted, they grew from nowhere as miracles often do.  _

_ I know you will not come to send me off in the morning due to your beliefs, I respect this. I am sending this only with my warmest regards, and to let you know that you, too, have been a dear friend to me. When this battle is won, I hope we will meet again. _

 

He didn’t sign the letter, he didn’t have to. I felt his presence through the thin calligraphy of his writing, and of the heat building up behind my eyes as I realized I hadn’t much time to swallow my pride and say farewell. Not as a gesture of approval, but as a goodbye to someone I had come to care a great deal about.

I pulled the cheese cloth from the top of the glass tray I had dried the penicillin on, I scraped the antibiotic into a glass jar and corked it, and repeated the same with the disgusting opium sludge I had created. Both would not be pleasant, but with any hope, I could find Heloise or the Knights Hospitaller, and I could help deter the endless dissatisfaction of death. I grabbed the bag I had traveled through time with and placed both bottles therein, as well as a flask of water and an apple. I raced to find Mongkut. Due to city traffic and sanitation laws, he couldn’t stay in the Market area, so I arranged for him to be put up in a stable down the street.

“Hey, big guy” I patted his narrow jaw “I’m gonna need you today, I might need to catch up with somebody.”

Mongkut huffed and buried his mouth into my hand before nodding his head in the direction of my bag. Even as I opened the gate, he refused to move out. I pulled out the apple in my bag and fed it to him, which made him obedient.

“Spoiled brat” I told him in English as I mounted him and pulled my hood over my head, concealing my skin from the harsh sun.

The streets of Jerusalem were all unusually quiet for the morning hours, I had noticed small groups of people wandering to the Damascus gate. I was not yet a skilled rider, but I urged Mongkut as quickly as I could in the same direction. 

Sure enough, I emerged from the city to find the Knights Templar and Soldiers of Tripoli preparing their long march along the coast. Ignoring stares, I rode about, looking for any sign of the king, I had looked for a small group of Jerusalem’s soldiers, and a group of Toron’s forces, but found few or none.

At last, with the knight’s templar, I found his majesty surrounded

“Halt- oh. Oh it's Susana”

“Hello, Fox.” I greeted him “Mind if I come in?”

“Welshman, send the whores to the back where they belong. Keep the debauchery far and away from this holy order.”

“Say that again?” I yelled back at him, furious, pulling the mask down from my mouth “Do you kiss the Papal ring with that mouth?”

“Susana,” Reynard interrupted me, still trying to speak quietly enough to avoid the others hearing “he deserved that and all but, I really think you need to shut up, that’s the Grandmaster.”

“He’s a creep.” I spat, dismounting from my horse. The King finally realized what was going on and excused himself from Humphrey’s explaining of the map.

“I’m sorry for interrupting your march before it's even begun” I apologized “But I had to thank you, and I'm sorry for my behavior.” We had to stay professional, as a whole army and kingdom were watching, but I wanted nothing more than to embrace him.

“You are entitled to your opinion” he put one of his hands on my shoulder. “But I am glad you came out here after all. I’m sorry I cannot be long, I must mount my horse before the strain of standing in this heat weakens me.”

“Are you sure you’re in any condition to march that far?” I asked, deep concern setting in.

“I must set an example for my men, I will ride for as long as I must. After victory has been secured, I will allow myself to be carried.”

“Your majesty, I know that you are strong, but you must know your limits.” I placed both of my hands over his hands. “Even Achilles had his heel. At least let me help you.”

“I have physicians and the Hospitallers at bay, Susana” He reassured me, his eyes were blue and full of sadness as he pulled back his hand away from my shoulder. “If this mission is doomed as you say, I beg you not to follow” I looked over his shoulder to see the aforementioned hospitallers, one of which, even despite her facial mask, I could easily identify as Heloise among a few other Benedictine nurses, all of whom were dressed in plain white robes.

“I will go” I responded, slightly frustrated, but not unconvinced that I couldn’t help him avoid either disfavorable end. “But first, I would like to ride along my friend, Sister Heloise for awhile until I must turn back.”

“Go, then” I sensed him smiling beneath his mask.

“Thank you for the flowers.” I grinned, walking back to Mongkut.

I rode Mongkut in a figure eight until the King had shifted his attention back to departing. I then moved with the crowd to catch up with Heloise, but unlike I had stated, I did not plan on turning back.

Thus, I marched alongside an army of 10,000 men towards a battle I knew was doomed. I never once looked back towards the city, I looked ahead, towards the men leading the entourage, and towards a land unknown to me aside from maps and books made by dead men.

I caught up with Heloise and brought up the alchemical creations I had made with few ingredients. It was going to be a long campaign, I was as ready as I could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Until the 16th century, common knowledge of the Universe was based on the Ptolemaic model which placed the earth at the center of the Universe. The work of Nicholas Copernicus would challenge this.  
> -The Knights Hospitaller were an order dedicated to providing medical care to pilgrims and crusaders in the Holy Land. They became indispensable to the Crusader kingdom, moreso as they became a partial military branch.  
> \--Real Crusades History has a really good video explaining who the Hospitallers were ( https://youtu.be/1sifW7GwLk8 ) Their channel is really informative in general, they have tons of different videos about the different crusades in European history, not just the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem. (There's some videos about Baldwin IV and KoH in the mix too =))


	9. Cor Tuum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flowers have all gone off to war, and Susana still has a lot to learn about her new world, and herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say about this one because i'm mad tired, but its heating up! (I'm not just talking about desert temperature). Enjoy! It gets pretty spicy towards the end.

“Mind if I ride here for a bit, Heloise?” I asked

“Are you actually planning on coming?” She frowned “You’re entering no-womens land, if you don’t fall prey to one of the soldiers, you risk being fair game to the Saracens.”

“If that is the case, why are you coming?” I responded

“All are forbidden by punishment of treason from harassing medics, and Jerusalem is in agreement with the Muslims to mutually consecrate hospital tents.” She took off her white robe and tossed it to me “Wear this, don’t answer questions. Father Athanasius rides with us as we accompany the hospitallers.”

“I didn’t realize the Benedictines and the Hospitallers worked together as medics.” Given the former’s relatively pacifistic ideals, one seemed antithetical to the other.

“God calls us to the strangest places, but if that is his will, his servants must answer.” Spoke a familiar figure in brown that rode up alongside my right side “Or have you forgotten that I found you in an unused coronation cellar?” Athanasius looked out at me from beneath his hood, his golden cross reflecting the sun as his horse trotted along.

“ _ Pater _ , it has been an age.” I greeted him, forever grateful for his kindness when I had been at my most vulnerable. “Have you been in Jerusalem all this time?”

“Yes, my brother and his family also recently arrived from Ghana, they have all kept me busy*.” He laughed, using the heel of his hand to wipe beads of sweat from his temples “I’m an uncle to eight children, Susana. Have you ever looked over eight children?”

“Hey, my father is one of eight children, I have a lot of younger cousins.” I wondered how old Diana, my second cousin was, by now. Since leaving Jaffa, my only contact with children had been urchins that I would feed every evening in the market.

For hours we rode in the desert, at first talking about our families. The mid afternoon was the most severe, we all quietly endured the heat. Back home, I had always loved spending time in the desert, relishing even in the most severe of temperatures. The temperature of Jerusalem, however, was something entirely unbearable at this time of day. Beneath the white robe Heloise gave me, I shed another layer of clothing. I struggled to endure the heat, I could only imagine how the armed soldiers were holding up. In the distance, towards the front, I could still see the King, the Count of Tripoli, the Baron of Toron, and the Grandmaster of the Knights Templar. All but the King seemed slumped in agony, despite all wearing the same amount of armor.

“ _ How much he sacrifices _ ” I whispered to myself “ _ Just to motivate his soldiers.” _ I straightened myself back up and took a drink from my flask. It reminded me of how he must be forgoing water as well, as it would require him removing his mask. Count Raymond showed far less fortitude, as he slumped forward and had water passed to him from a bodyguard every so often.

After another half hour, we came across a village halfway to Tiberias. We had been traveling for a long time, but the stop came long before dusk, and I knew something was wrong. With 10,000 men, and the extreme heat, a few did collapse and were tended to, but this was different. As the men dismounted and set up their tents, Heloise, Athanasius and I rode Mongkut to join the Hospitallers near the front, and found the natives of the village tending to Count Raymond, whom had fallen off his horse when we stopped.

“Its a fever” I overheard one of the Hospitallers, a younger man dressed in a dark tunic adorned with large white crosses, speaking with Raymond’s bodyguard. “We shall have him sent back to Tripoli immediately.”

“With all of his soldiers still here?” The Templar that had been aiding Raymond all along was Bartolomeu. Both began an argument in French. “He’s the fucking second-in-command, and the bulk of our forces. Make him well again, and do so now, else we have no need for you on this campaign.”

“Pardon me, good knights.” I interrupted “What has happened with the Count of Tripoli?”

“You again?” Bartolomeu turned to me. “You’re not part of the church, we need no more mouths to feed, I'm going to have you sent back to the city.”

“If you’ll allow me to see the Count, I may be able to help” I insisted.

“Look at you” He stated with a dry laugh “Trying to be a hero again. Fine, come this way. The Benedictines, too. Maybe you can do what these morons could not.”

“Thank you, Bartolomeu” I said graciously as I dismounted from my horse. I helped Heloise down from her horse, a difficult task for her to do alone due to her short height. She, Athanasius and I gathered all items of use to us and followed the agitated Bartolomeu.

“What did you mean when you said ‘again’?” I asked him as he led us to the stone house where they held Raymond.

“What?” He responded bitterly.

“When you said I was trying to be a hero, ‘again’, what did you mean?”

“Tongue slipped.” His responded in a softer voice, I dared not ask further questions.

We came to a cot where Raymond was laying, several Hospitallers stood about, arguing with one another, as two pressed damp cloths on the count’s head to keep his body temperature down.

“Who the fuck brought the hermits here?” shouted one of them upon seeing us enter.

“Thats enough” Shouted Heloise, capturing everyone’s attention, “You’re not making this situation any better, sir. Please allow us to handle this.”

“Like Hell I will, bitch.” Growled the frustrated Hospitaller, he charged towards her as the crowd once again began their conflict.

“ _ I _ brought them here” Bartolomeu grabbed the Knight Hospitaller by the shoulder “To do the job  _ you _ should have finished days before we left.”

The Knight trembled, his hand shaking with anticipation to reach for his sword. He backed away from Bartolomeu, the whole room had gone quiet, save for Athanasius’ prayers. “I will tell the king about this.” The knight pushed his chest out, feigning confidence in the face of the much-larger Bartolomeu. “And the Pope” The knight stormed out before he could get a response to his face.

“Tell him what, that I hurt your pride?” Bartolomeu cackled sarcastically. “Now shoo, all of you freeloaders.” He cleared the room so that only himself, Athanasius, Heloise and I remained, the remnants of the Knights Hospitaller were two confused acolyte boys in the corner, whom had been left behind and would remain as assistance.

Athanasius felt Raymond’s head “He’s too warm, we must remove this armor.”

Heloise and I worked together to take apart his armor. Though he was unconscious, I was embarrassed as I removed the chainmail from over Raymond’s torso. Heloise, far more experienced in tending to the ill and wounded, worked more confidently.

Athanasius exposed the swollen flesh beneath Raymond’s shoulder. “It has gone wrong.” He shook his head. “How long has it been like this?”

“Since a week before we left” Bartolomeu replied. “He got it when his chainmail splintered during training”

I turned to the nervous boys, still awaiting command. “You, find a large pot and boil water in it.” I pointed to the other, “You, find alcohol, the strongest you possibly can.”

“No need, I will boil the water”, Athanasius responded “Just keep bringing more and more from the well, we will need quite a bit.”

“You’ll find a flask of spirits on Fox.” Bartolomeu turned to the other boy as he departed. “He’s the redhead dressed like me.”

“Your grace, are you in any pain?” I pressed the damp cloth along Raymond’s head and neck.

“It aches a bit.” He mumbled, opening his eyes to look at me. “Oh, Susana, the intruder” he murmured jokingly. “You’re a sight for these old eyes.”

“I’m going to try and make you better, your grace.” I rummaged through my bag, looking for the bottle of penicillin. I did not know how much to give, so I settled for a tablespoon, dissolved in water to make it easier to swallow. “It might make you feel unpleasant, but it will kill the curse of the flesh your body suffers from.” I only gave as much in the teaspoon as I imagined the Count would be able to keep down. 

Our water-bearer returned, we boiled the water over the fireplace, and I ensured everyone washed their hands with ashes and warm water. Athanasius was confused when I asked him to boil his surgical tools, but complied. I took the liberty of cleaning the area around the wound with the spirit one of the acolyte’s finessed from Reynard’s belt.

“You say this is how they do it in Florence?” Heloise asked, exhausted by the repetitiveness of thorough disinfection.

“Well, I'm no doctor” Using my forearm, I wiped the sweat from my brow “I’ve merely seen what works there, and if the Hospitallers’ methods have failed, it would be foolish to try them again.”

Although sickened by the sight, I held open Raymond’s wound as Athanasius examined the it for the offending fragment of chainmail. At last he found it embedded in his flesh like a fish hook, surrounded by angry red capillaries.

He gently pulled the mail out and looked about for shrapnel. When he was confident that the wound was clean, we once again washed it out with warm water and began firmly bandaging it.

“It is in God’s hands now, all we can do is wait.” Athanasius breathed a sigh of relief mixed with anxiety. “Susana, if you could, please keep an eye on the count. Heloise and I must attend to the soldiers suffering from heat-sickness.”

“I understand, I will do my best.” I embraced them both “Thank you, thank you for letting me help.”

Dusk came, and it seemed we would be spending the night in that tiny village. I spent the rest of the evening watching over Count Raymond, pressing cloths to his forehead to keep him well. I looked in the corner to see the same elderly homeowners sitting shyly on their bed. I was overcome with guilt, these people lived here and we had interrupted their lives.

“Do you speek Greek?” I asked, with no response. “Arabic?”

“We are Jews, my lady. But I speak Arabic.” responded the woman

“ _ Shalom _ , Have you any Kosher meat?” I asked “I will send for ingredients from our supplies, I will make you supper, in exchange for you allowing us to heal this man here.”

“Yes, my lady, there is cured lamb in the salt box.” she responded. I sent an acolyte to retrieve one of every vegetable and spice from our supplies, the husband said something to his wife.

“My Husband asked me to ask you; what is your name, and your father's name?” 

“My name is Susana.” I responded, reconstituting the meat in boiling water “My father’s name is Luca. May I ask yours?”

“I am Rachael, and this is Isaac.” she smiled, her face full of wrinkles and wisdom. “Have you a husband and children, Susana, Daughter of Luca?”

“I have neither” I responded as I filled the pot with the various other ingredients. I was never a great cook, but it was hard to go wrong with stew, especially if it was spiced adequately. “I believe I am doomed to be a spinster.”

“You had ought to raise children, at least.” Rachael said encouragingly. “If more Christians were brought up like you, this country would be a much better place.”

“You are too kind, Rachael” I thanked her as I examined the vegetables for tenderness. I loved children, but the more I saw of the medieval world, compiled with what I knew of its future and the quality of life it offered, I was unsettled at the thought of adding to the suffering.

I took a spoonful of the broth and set it aside in a wooden bowl for Raymond, whom was beginning to come to. “Your grace?” I took the robes I had removed earlier and folded them to be a pillow, allowing better support of his head. “Here, drink this. You need nourishment.”

He opened his eyes, they seemed brighter and more alert, though he was still too dazed to talk.

“He’s doing better.” Bartolomeu observed, feeling the Count’s temperature with his exposed wrist “Might not be good enough to travel in armor tomorrow, but he’s definitely coming back.”

“Must we leave tomorrow?” I implored “He desperately needs rest, as do the soldiers suffering from heat sickness.”

“We’ve had enough of a delay, Susana.” He said with an unusual amount of gentleness, “You’ve never been to war, but when you’re marching out there to stop raids, every minute counts.”

“Well, you are right. I can at least give him this panacea, and it will help him recover more quickly” I took an empty linen coin purse from my pocket and poured some of the penicillin powder within. I turned to face Bartolomeu, smiling “I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name, Bartolomeu.”

He stopped talking. He was very clearly antisocial, but I had also figured he was exhausted. I quietly prepared bowls of supper for all of us still conscious in the house.

Isaac spoke something to Rachael, asking her to translate “Susana, you did a fine job, but before you go, my husband wants to give you a lesson on properly cooking turnips.”

“I’d appreciate that.” I responded, covering my mouth as I nearly gagged after biting into an undercooked slice of the root vegetable.

\---

I shared a tent with Heloise and two other Benedictine women that night, It took me ages to fall asleep, as my thoughts were filled with fear of the war to come. I imagined what it would be like to have to feel the life pass from someone’s body as you held them in your arms. I wanted to ask Heloise how she dealt with it, but she had quickly fallen asleep following the day’s exhaustion.

When at last I woke up, it was to the sound of officers walking through the camp, banging on a cowbell. The barely-there daylight told me it was still the small hours of the morning, but I was glad for the opportunity to move forward before it got too hot outside to even think. As the other women and I stumbled out of our sleeping mats to get dressed, a young man’s voice from outside the tent called to me in Arabic.

“Lady Susana, the King requests your presence immediately.”

“What?” I grumbled, still groggy from my short slumber.

“You need to go to his tent before we leave.”

_ “Oh boy” _ I thought to myself. The soldiers were all incredibly good at packing and leaving as efficiently as possible. I quickly pulled the white robe Heloise gave me about myself, not even taking the time to braid my hair or pull it up into a wrap. After putting on my slippers and crudely tossing my belongings into the satchel on Mongkut’s saddle. To save time, I brought the steed with me. I made my way towards the king’s tent; white with blue trimmings. It was a long walk away from where I slept, so I pulled my hood up to avoid the stares of tired, grumpy soldiers.

The one who met me outside the tent was the servant boy from the night of the Patriarch’s selection. He could tell I was exhausted, and took my horse without question, nodding at the guards for my safe entrance.

As I parted the opening of the tent, I immediately saw the king sitting in a chair at the center, writing something on a scribe’s board he supported with his other hand.

“Your majesty” I took a knee to him “You summoned me.”

“Stand up.” He demanded. “Do not try to show respect to me now.”

“How have I shown you any disrespect?”

“I ordered you to turn back before we left” He placed the board on which he wrote to his side, and rested his head on his left hand.“and yet here you are, joining the army on a battle you say is doomed.”

“You didn’t order me.” My heart sank, as I suddenly recalled how near Count Raymond was to death “Is all well with the count?”

“He is fully conscious, and the Hospitallers say he can travel today, so long as he forgoes his armor. He also took another dose of that gritty powder you gave him, insistent that it has helped the fever pass.” He paused for a moment, the emptiness of the tent, combined with the cool bleakness of early dawn created a tenseness I had never felt between him and I before. “I suppose I have you and your friends to thank, you did what the Hospitallers could not, and you saved my second-in-command.”

“And yet I have still committed treason?” I scoffed “I came of my own free will to help, how am I different from any volunteer here?”

“You are not a soldier, nor do you serve the Church” He tried to stand up, shakily. I hurried over to help him rise, but he gently pushed me aside as he forced himself to his feet. “I will have you escorted back to Jerusalem, you are not safe here.”

“Neither are you, neither is a single soul here!” I protested, I knew I had to calm down. I lowered my tone of voice. “Your majesty, tomorrow is never promised to us. I confess that I disobeyed you. But I also confess that if I die on this journey, I don’t want to meet God knowing I did not try to relieve the suffering of his children.” 

“I want to protect you.” He said, frustrated “I cannot do that if you don’t obey me”

“I want to tell you I can protect myself, but I know that isn’t possible, either.” I sniffled, I felt my heart slam at the confines of my grief. “I lost everyone when I came to Jerusalem. One day, death will claim me and I will have no family to mourn my loss.” I peeked open the drapes that formed the entrance of the tent, and both of us peered out upon the crowds of soldiers that folded and did away with the tents that formed the camp. “Those men out there, many of them have wives and children, hopes and dreams  _ et cetera, et cetera _ . The chance to save them is all I have.” I had come to terms with my belief that everything I was and everyone I knew for two decades was gone. All I had in the 12th century was the opportunity to create a new life, in a different world. “Your majesty, I've nothing to lose, but so much to gain.”

“If you have no family, then I will be your family” he took in his arms and embraced me. I felt my tears catch in the illustrious silk fabric that covered his chest. Despite my surprise, I embraced him back and continued to cry as my head filled with memories of the life I lost. “Do what you must, you have been a great help to me, and to the Count of Tripoli.” He held me with such affection that I could have felt his soul reach into mine, plucking away nodules of pain like thorns from a rose.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I too, often felt that same loneliness?” He consoled. My hair had been exposed as my hood fell back behind my head. Baldwin brushed the dark strands back behind my ears. “I’ve lived my life behind curtains, and bandages, and since I was sixteen, masks. All because the world could not bear to look upon the ruins of my face.”

“Then this world is full of fools.” I responded, wiping away the last of my tears with the back of my sleeve “Are not the very foundations of Jerusalem built upon ruins?.”

A horn sounded outside. A soldier pulled aside the tent opening, and alerted the king, in French, of the army’s need to continue its march.

“I’ll be out in a moment.” He held a finger up at the guard, who disappeared behind the opening.

“I’ll get going” I secured my robe and prepared to leave “I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”

“Do what you do best, Alchemist.” He commanded playfully. “Susana, that term you use, ‘ _ et-cetera, et-cetera _ ’ I am not familiar with it.”

“Oh! It means” I looked up, trying to think of how best to explain it “And all the rest, and so forth.”

“So, take for example the upper echelons of the military;  _ Constable, Marshal, General _ et cetera, et cetera”

“That’s about right, your majesty” I nodded. “Take care of yourself”

“And you” he bade farewell, and I watched him disappear from behind the curtain. His loneliness made me feel even sadder than my own did, at the time, I thought it was simply because he had to endure it for much longer.

I claimed Mongkut from the post he was tied to outside, and rode him back to where Heloise and Athanasius awaited for me. The troops around me were grouchy, cursing at each other in french, arguing as they circled around basins of water, filling their flasks and hydrating their bodies in preparation for the ravages of the sun’s emerging heat. I was grateful that I did not have to wear the same amount of armor, and became more understanding of their horrid behavior the day prior.

“I think his lordship favors you” Heloise teased sleepily, tossing me a roll of bread for breakfast.

“Hush.” I felt a grin nearly split my face in half as I bit into it “He was actually upset that I came out here.”

“Wait, what?” Heloise asked, possibly having forgotten that the king had requested my audience no more than a few minutes ago.

“Who were you referring to?” I asked

“The Count of Tripoli?” She whispered “He’s been looking for you, he wanted to thank you for your help.”

“Maybe he can do so when we’re not all in such a hurry.”

As the supply chain joined us, the army once again began its long march. The next two days, we marched, and occasionally stopped, often following the interception with messengers moving in between given points. I asked Heloise and Athanasius whom the messengers were, they had no answers. I asked Reynard, I was then told that the messengers were part of a network loop, one which acted as a postal system between the counties.

He cleared his throat, “I can’t say anymore than that” While sober, he was cautious of his habit of sharing too much information. “It is new, but its been a great help in allowing us to evade Saladin’s army until we reach the castle of Tibnin”. He covered his mouth “There I go again.”

“I know nothing of militarism, Fox.” I giggled “Its fine” I wondered if the King had used my idea of a ‘pony express’ adaptation after all.

The march brought us to the sea of Galilee, near its southern mouth where it flowed into the river Jordan. It was somewhere along here that Jesus was baptized, and the shores of the river were filled with pilgrims and their children, accompanied by Templars. Athanasius too went to the river, baptizing the newborn children of these pilgrims. From a distance, I watched them celebrate and rejoice as the glistening heads of their infants emerged from the river. As night fell, they cleared out and the shores filled with soldiers drinking and praying before the river. But it was only until night fell that I found myself at those same shores, sitting with the others as Athanasius quoted John’s Gospel. I had expected many of the soldiers to be praying for victory, instead I heard whispers of them surrendering their souls to God, and heartfelt prayers for their families’ health.

I waited until Athanasius was finished to ask him, “Father, do you baptize adults?” I asked him before he stepped out of the river.

“Of course I do” I responded “Christ was fully grown when he was baptized in this river. I will baptize any soul who has love and fealty to him.”

“Could you.. Baptize me?”

“Did your family not do so when you were a child?” He asked, surprised.

“Father, I..” I paused to contemplate how I could explain it “That was another life, one that I lost and can never return to. I need to let it go, all of it.”

“If you are asking for a chance to begin again, that is between you and God” he consoled “But I will be his hand on earth, and release you from the sins of your past. Come.” He took me by the arm and waded with me, deep into the water. Until we were both waist-deep. The world was silent and dark, with only the gentle babbling of water and the dull light of the moon to counter it.

“I baptize you in the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit.” He declared before lowering me into the water, as I felt my body submerged, my minds’ eye was filled with visions of light and circles, it was the mosaic at the sepulchre, the design turning and shifting like conveyor belts in an endless loop, only fading as I found myself once again. I returned to the surface, gasping for air, choking, I must have been under for longer than I should have, as Athanasius had to guide me to the shore, with me still choking as I clambered to the ground, vulnerable as a newborn as the gravel wedged itself between the weaving of my white traveler’s robes, embedding into the skin of my knees.

“ _ Amen _ ” I wheezed as I accepted the life I had been born into.

\---

When I arrived at Tibnin, we were received by Lord Humphrey’s family. Throughout the crowd, Princess Isabella charged over to meet me. When I dismounted, I noticed she had gotten a bit taller, her hair shorter.

“Sibylla wrote and told me you would be coming.” She looked up at me, batting her eyelashes.

“So it seems! What are you doing here, sweetheart?” I asked as I embraced her

“I’ve been betrothed to Humphrey the younger!” She responded ecstatically. I was caught off guard. I knew that marriage happened at younger ages, but she was scarcely ten. I wondered if her presence in Jaffa had anything to do with the arrangement.

“Really!” I exclaimed “Well congratulations, my lady.” I took her under my robe as we walked with the crowd, shielding her from the sun.

“What is your horse’s name?” She looked up at Mongkut’s graceful form as he trotted along behind us.

“His name is Mongkut, my friend won him for me at a tournament.” The horse chuffed, familiar with his own name.

“I just got my first horse, too.” She celebrated “I’ve named her Athena, after the stories you told me.”

“I’m so pleased” I asked “How goes your education, my lady?”

“My tutors write my mother often, they say I'm doing good. I also love to read whenever I'm not playing with Humphrey outside” She hugged my waist “You gotta meet him, he’d love to hear your stories! I told him the ones about Gilgamesh, but I can’t do it as good as you.”

“Princess, please come here now!” Cried out an older handmaid, as she eyed me with uncertainty.

“I’m coming!” She called back. “Bye Susana, please stay for awhile!” She hugged me and ran off, not bothering to carry her dress as ladies usually did. I wanted to ask her why she was here and not with her parents, but time was of the essence, and I learned that it would also reveal everything I did not know about the Kingdom of Jerusalem.

\---

I spent most of the first few hours in the servants’ portion of the castle, cleaning linens and taking inventory of medical supplies. A message was brought to me, unsealed and addressed with my name on the back.

 

_ Please report to the guardroom to attend a council meeting, immediately. _

 

The letter was unsigned, but Baldwin’s skillful handwriting betrayed him, even when done hastily. I dusted off and threw on my first set of robes, which were the only “nice” garments I had at my disposal. I braided my hair back, away from my face and made my way into the upper halls of the castle.

“ _ You have yet to explain why we shouldn’t attack him immediately _ ” I heard a man’s booming voice, along with several others throughout the halls of what appeared to be the guard’s quarters.

“Forgive me, I came as fast as I could” I apologized as I clutched the doorway, slightly out of breath following my jog throughout the seemingly endless hallways. Surrounding the table were the Grandmaster of the Templars, the King, Humphrey the Elder, and Count Raymond sitting on the side. Two additional participants, a finely dressed couple, stood at the right hand corner of the room.

“This is the ill woman you mentioned your majesty?” The grandmaster tapped his sword impatiently.

“It is” the woman hurried towards me “A pleasure to meet you, Susana” She took me by the hand and led me to the spot next to her, where she had been standing “I’m sure you’re familiar with this lot, but I am Stephanie, I am the Lady of the Castle, and this is my husband, Raynald.”

Raynald of Chatillon, I knew of him, and I knew he would be the aggressor in the years to come. I bowed politely, regardless of the tension he made me feel, he turned away, unwilling to acknowledge me. “ _ Don’t be intimidated. _ ” Stephanie whispered into my ear. “ _ This is how men always speak to each other. _ ”

“Susana has been invited here because I trust her council, and because she knows how our first encounter will play out.”

“Is this also based on your faith in what Princess Sibylla says?” Raynald of Chatillon scoffed “Find this woman a husband, perhaps it will calm her hysterics all the same.”

“If that is truly her wish” Count Raymond interjected ”I could find an adequate arrangement for her” 

“For heavens’ sake, let the poor woman say her piece” Humprey cleared the air. “Even if any of you know where Saladin’s encampments are hiding, you haven't said a damned thing about it, even now.” He turned to face me “Please, my lady, tell us what knowledge God has given you of our future.”

“Well, I..” I felt the heavy gaze of the room press me at every angle, and was motivated only out of a desire not to further embarrass myself, “Saladin will be hiding among the hills slightly inland from the coast” I looked at the map, simple as it was, created only with lines, I was able to see the formation of hills. “His camp is where the battle will be fought, and he will attempt an ambush when your forces have let their guard down.”

“His plan is one of ambush, and since we appear to be approaching from the inland route, perhaps we may outsmart him.” The King explained “We can feign rest at night, put all the fires out early. The Templars will stand vigil, waiting for the attack.”

“They will be exhausted, having just fought a battle” the Grandmaster retorted “They won’t be much use when reinforcements pile in from Damascus.”

“That is why we will launch a guerilla assault, when the Saracens are vulnerable and unexpected, we will deplete their resources and force them out of Jerusalem’s borders.”

“Why not just burn their medical supplies?” Raynald “If Saladin is present, and with such a small force present, we can end him then and there.”

“Our agreement” Count Raymond reminded him “I find it as inconvenient as you do, but if we attack their medics, they will have cause to attack ours. Medic tents must remain mutually sanctified” He looked at me “Lest we lose more than we hope to gain.”

“Could you not put them towards the back?” Stephanie asked “So that they may have to move past several flanks?”

“It would be impossible to get the wounded on their stretchers and back in time” Humphrey added “I’d be dead several times over, were those tents further away from the front lines than they already are”

“You are all going on a tangent” Baldwin interjected, “We will move forward with the destruction of supplies, if we can locate them, through stealth. It seems the best way to cripple Saladin’s army without risking much of our own forces.” He whacked the map with a wooden pointer and guided it through the hills “While Saladin’s forces struggle to recuperate, a portion of Tripoli’s forces will charge downward, accompanied by whatever we have of Toron’s. They will rest for the night as the remainder of the army awaits an ambush.” He turned to look at the Grandmaster “And to settle any fear that this is mere superstition, we will confirm everything with our scouts before we move forward.”

“I will continue to insist on burning the medical supplies as well” Raynald added, “If you give the Saracens an inch, they will take a mile”

“The ones you want to kill wounded men, and doctors wearing turbans and robes, armed with nothing but scalpels and tweezers.” I finally spoke up “Our Hospitallers are actual trained warriors, we have no reason to harm their medics nor their patients.”

“Oh? And how many wars have you watched from the comfort of those tents?” Raynald stood up from his chair, his gut flowing over the edge of the strategy table “Have you ever seen how viciously our enemy fights? How little care  _ they _ have for human life?”

“No” I responded honestly “You’re right, my Lord. I’ve never seen a war be fought. Everything I know about the horrors of war comes from books, but I know how they all end.”

“And how is that?” He asked, sarcastically. From across the room, I smelled sour wine on his breath.

“Blood-soaked earth, rusted swords, and names on gravestones that will one day run out of people to weep for them.”

“Very romantic.” He clapped “Well, I have had enough of this, it is your battle after all. Gentlemen, your Majesty. My wife and I will retire for the evening.” He grabbed Stephanie at her lower back. Her brow wrinkled and she took a deep breath of embarrassment.

“It was nice to meet you, my lady” I smiled at her, she returned the gesture, but seemed disappointed by her husband’s behavior.

“Nothing more is to be said.” The Grandmaster added “We have a plan, your majesty. I too will take my leave.”

One after the other departed, and I was left alone with the king as he awaited guards to escort him to his quarters.

“I don’t know how you deal with it.” I took a seat beside him, weaving my fingers together. “Not only do you have to deal with the foul mouths of your advisors, you have to account for the life of every soldier who fights for you.”

“I have gotten used to it, they actually behaved quite well today, considering you and the Lady Stephanie were present in the room.” He reassured me, though I felt quite betrayed by Stephanie’s assertion that it they were always like this. “Thank you for coming.”

“I got the sense that you had trouble up here.” I put my hand on his wrist “We have a saying where I come from, its ‘Thanks for having my back’. Thank you for sticking up for me, even when  I sound crazy to everyone else.”

“I.. don’t have your back” He said slowly, before he reached his gloved hand behind my neck and separated his fingertips from each other, mimicking the sensation of a spider’s crawl, causing me to gasp “But now I do” he chuckled as I shrieked with laughter, telling him over and over to stop. He was always so formal and composed, it was easy to forget how young he still was, and playful as young men his age often were. I kicked the wooden chair aside with a loud squeak and wiggled my way onto the table. I used the table and my hands to block the back of my exposed neck from his touch, eventually working my hands to the back of my neck. Baldwin remained standing after his defeat, looming over me, supporting himself on the table with the hand he did not have pressed up against the tender area between my neck and jaw. His attack was halted by my own hands.

“You’re lucky the guards could walk in at any minute” I spoke softly, my heart still racing “And you have all those clothes covering you” I removed one of my hands and curled it against my chest “Or I'd reach up there and get my revenge on you for that.”

“I can still feel some things” He responded, his voice deeper, so deep I could see his mask shift as he spoke, and I imagined his lips moving beneath to form two words. His eyes were especially striking as he spoke. “Do it.”

Emerging footsteps in the distance forced me off the table, and I retreated to attention in the corner of the room, quickly fixing my hair.

“Your Majesty” One of the guards put his fist to his chest, ignoring my presence. “We’ve come to escort you to your quarters.”

“ _ Officium me vocat _ ” he remained at the same spot on the table, as if I had never moved from it. As he walked away, with far less vivacity, he gave me a quick look as a gesture of farewell.

I leaned against the stone wall, still catching my breath, the moment replaying over and over again in my head, how his eyes were like two windows, and I was looking into the summer sky. His voice was sweeter than milk and honey. I still felt his hand on my neck, and I was feeling something erupt within me that I thought would not occur in this place.

“ _ I haven’t even seen his face _ ” I thought to myself, even now denying my feelings. I felt tears stream down my eyes, and surrendered myself to Eros. “ _ No. I but have seen his heart. _ ”

I focused on the silence for any sign of his footsteps. I could not follow him no matter how desperately I wanted to. I picked myself up, preparing to follow my doomed love to his doomed battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I am messing with the timelines of certain battles, but they all happen within the same 2 year timeframe. Criticism and suggestions are still welcome, if you have any.  
> -The title of this chapter comes from Dante's 'Vita Nuova', which I will allude to in the future. I didn't notice until after I began writing this story, but BIV's funeral song in Kingdom of Heaven is 'Vide Cor Meum', Patrick Cassidy's Italian-Latin musical adaptation of Dante's poetry, in which Dante professes his love for Beatrice. https://youtu.be/eb2Bv-U9NqE I fangirled really hard when I realized this, lol.


	10. Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Susana sees the horrors of war, and makes a sacrifice of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: I think I was pretty graphic with my descriptions of violence and injuries here so beeee careful if you don't like that stuff!
> 
> Wew so this chapter is pretty heavy. Just tying up some loose ends to prepare the way for the main romance plot. Hope you enjoy!

_"Someplace where there isn't any trouble... do you suppose there is such a place, Toto? There must be. It's not a place you can get to by a boat or train. It's far, far away... behind the moon, beyond the rain."_  


_(The Wizard of Oz, 1939)_

 

In my life, love and tragedy have always gone hand-in-hand. My parents were always good to each other. My father had met my mother after the war, when she was a student at the University of California, Los Angeles (My own Alma Mater). Like her mother, she was a psychologist. During the 1950s, salaries were high enough that she decided to stay home and raise Charlie and I full-time after she graduated.

“You kids are lucky to have such a great ma” he’d look at her, sitting in the passenger seat of our car “There's no other gal in the world that could put up with us like she does.” then they would kiss.

“ _Ewww_ ” Charlie and I would respond in unison, sometimes kicking the seats to scold them.  


The one time they fought signaled the end of her life. They never fought before, which made the fight itself a tragedy. While Charlie slept in the room we shared, I listened to the entire thing unfold. There was no shouting, just arguing, but ten-year old me knew something was amiss during dinner. I cannot even remember what they fought about, it was something trivial like money or chores, something that wouldn’t matter years down the line. Something that could have never matched the anguish of losing her.  


The seven words that changed everything were “ _I will go to see my mother_ ”

My father said nothing, it was as if the words shattered something in him, and that if there was a line, he had crossed it. I knew little of my maternal Grandmother, or my mother’s side of the family, only that she was a psychologist and had expatriated to Istanbul after Armenia went red. 

The night before her flight, she called us long-distance from the hotel and told my father that when she came back, they would “Work things out”, no divorce.

She never made it off that plane.

My father broke the news that she never even made it to Istanbul, or so the death certificate we received said.

The Turkish government offered little to no help; no remains, no records, even the busy urban hospital she succumbed to her wounds in were unable to provide us with any information. For months Charlie and I stayed with my aunt in Topanga canyon, where I (almost) learned how to ride horses. My traumatized father mourned for half a year before we could finally stay with him again.

I tried not to brood over my mother too much, though I thought about her often. Brooding about her only reminded me of the dark place my father had been in after her death. Charlie and I suffered without our mom and dad, but dad’s pain was unfathomable. He never remarried. I avoided these painful thoughts because I always felt I could never truly understand the agony of loving someone so much, only to lose them, along with every trace of their existence; to be left only with memories that would flicker and fade with age.

I found myself again worrying if that would be me, if I would lock myself away from my life and my responsibilities, if I would lose myself to grief when Baldwin’s time came. He knew he was going to die, I knew he was going to die. I followed him here with the hope of stopping his _unexpected_ death. I would remain with the faint hope that I could prevent his _expected_ death. You feel differently about the world when you're in love, you're a lot less selfish. You go crazy with your desire to protect the beloved one. My father taught that to me, when he suffered after being unable to save my mother. _  
_

* * *

On the eve of battle. I was sleepless and haunted by my emotions and by the same feeling of being watched that I felt the night before I left my own time. I sat beneath a young date palm tree, before a small, crackling fire. I idly flickered through the pages of the textbook I brought with me, as if waiting for the words “ _ succumbed to leprosy in 1185 _ ” to change. As if waiting for my role in his life and my love for him to be mighty enough to change the outcome.

Date palm trees are not native to the home state of my old life, they are native to the near east. Perhaps the seed of the tree I lingered under that night would one day grow tall and gracefully along the neatly-lined streets of the neighborhood I grew up in. I, in all my shelteredness, would ride by, never looking up, never wondering about how the smallest things could have such a global impact.

“Something on your mind?” Reynard walked up alongside me, filled with a jovial melancholy.

“Fox, don’t sneak up on me like that.” we both laughed, realizing how idiotic my response was. “Well, a fair bit. Anything on yours?”

“I’ve been thinking about what I'll do if I ever stop crusading” he took a swig from his flask, the strong scent of Hops permeating the night air. “I mean, once I get too old. I’m thinking of going back to Wales and raising a ton of pigs.”

“Just pigs?” I asked

“And chickens, that’d be the food though. I just like pigs.” He asked cheerfully. “Pigs are pretty great. Don’t know why this lot eats so much pork. Guess that’s one the heathens have on us. I could never eat a pig, they’re too friendly.” he ranted “I’m talking too much. Truthfully, though, you look perturbed. Reading a tragedy?”

"We might die soon.” I stated, darkly, closing the book. “And I've never seen a war before. I’m frightened.”

“Aye, it's a terrible thing” he sat down next to me and offered me a drink from his flask. I took the massive tin saucer between my hands and took a small sip, only to immediately begin coughing, the drink was bitter, and stung the back of my throat “You can finish it, one of those damned hospitaller children nicked it off me and had their fill.”

“No” I bellowed three more coughs “thanks”

“I’ve seen men die in war one of two ways.” he reclaimed the flask, sealing it back up “Someone drives a sword through ‘em, or their soul feels so much pain it beckon’s suicide’s release.”

Charlie, Charlie in Vietnam. Charlie’s body being dragged through the mud, or Charlie dragging someone else’s body through the mud. Charlie coming home a broken man. Charles Gentile’s name etched onto a tombstone before his thirtieth birthday. I wept, despite swearing to let go of the remnants of my old life as an impossible unknown, I thought of my poor brother as he too went off to fight some distant war.

“If it's something else, I’m here to listen.” He took pity on me, despite the fact that I wouldn’t be fighting.

“Its my family” I responded sadly “I’m trying to forget my old life, but I always think of them. Always.”

“So don’t forget them” He retorted “I’m telling you, it's impossible. I came to the holy land because I was running from my family too. Now, I won’t ask what happened to yours, but you can only try to sweep away the remains of an old life.” He looked at his flask and wrinkled his face in disgust, before pouring the last few sips on the ground “But it’d be like sweeping the dirt. You’d never get it clean.”

Off in the distance, we saw two twin torches pass through the hills before being extinguished in the sand by their carriers, a group of men that spoke for a moment before separating.

“That’s them” Reynard spoke softly. “Put out your fire”

Together we suffocated the flames with sand, leaving no embers to give our location away to the enemy. Saladin’s camp had been found, and Jerusalem’s scouts were moving in to destroy their supplies.

“I need to go join the others.” Reynard pulled me into a great bear hug, one that reminded me of the ones my father gave. “Susana, go to the medic’s tent, you’ll be safe there. God bless you, sweet girl.”

“Thank you” I hugged him back, still weeping, worrying if I was to lose any of my few friends on this night as well. “Look after Bartolomeu for me, will you?”

“Always do, don’t tell him I said that, though.” He chuckled.

“I will pray for you both.” I told him as he made his way back to his horse and rode off. 

Humanity at war illustrates violence answered by vanity. Humans will go to war to slaughter each other, and then pray for God to end the suffering, rinse, repeat. To the surprise of no one, God never ends the wars. Only people can do that.

Despite my secular sense, I found some small comfort in individual prayer. Perhaps it was a fever from seeing crosses everywhere, or having to attend mass every Sunday. It was therapeutic to be able to speak to someone about everything that happened to me, even if they never spoke back to me.

“ _ Who else but God _ ” I thought to myself “ _ would send me on this ridiculous path? _ ”

I always asked “Who” sent me here, not “Why” I was sent here. I wanted so badly to believe that there was no reason for me to get thrown into this particular century. That was before I knew how time travel worked.

* * *

The hour was about 1 in the morning. It was still dark, and it was becoming bitterly chilly. Along with the others, I waited in that tent. Fire out, no one speaking. The room was silent but the room was still heavy with unspoken fear and anxiety as we awaited Armageddon. There was little communication between the army and the medics, only something about a spoiled well, and destroyed food stores.

From my understanding, Saladin could not sustain his intended forces with such heavy losses, and sent men into the hills, likely to recover water from a nearby oasis.

“The Saracens travel at night” one young man laughed sarcastically in the corner of the tent “why the fuck can’t  _ we _ travel at night?”

“Shut up, God damn you!” one of his companions responded, embracing himself to stay warm “I’m trying to fucking pray here!”.

“Watch your mouths” Athanasius scolded both of them “Men will die here tonight. Show some respect.”

I fumbled through my bag for the opiate I had created. With my limited resources, it was impossible for me to create enough powdered penicillin to treat an entire army. With hope, the opiate would ease the pain of passing for some of them, or keep wounded soldiers asleep long enough to make the pain bearable.

After a few hours, we heard the distant yells echoing throughout the plains of Marjayoun. It was the Count’s forces, along with whichever soldiers survived Banias. Heloise, demure as she seemed, was ready to tend to the dead. As tensions escalated, the Hospitallers flowed out of the tent, one by one. The tent was empty. We lit a fire, hoping to bring at least some comfort.

We sat about kindling it, that was when the first soldiers arrived; two men in the throes of agony. The noises they made were upsetting, but even worse was the state of their flesh as we hurried their armor off. Blunt force trauma to the skull had one shifting in and out of consciousness, his mouth spitting blood as he tried to mutter something. The other had been sliced so intensely with a sword through the thigh that his muscle was exposed, even opening like risen bread dough when a sharp knife is run through it. I nearly lost my mind at first, hysterical at the sight of the man whose skull had been so severely impacted. It was not the blood that sickened me, it was knowing that there was no ambulance to call, nor any emergency room to drive him to. This was all medieval people had, and I had to accept that I would see many more men die tonight.

It was nothing but treatment for hours, which felt like days. Athanasius and the Hospitallers prayed with them, offering last rites to those that were dying, but a few sought forgiveness from their worldly companions, as well. Most men did cry out for God to save them, but many asked for forgiveness from their wives, their children, even childhood friends. No soldier dies the same way; some die wailing like an infant as they succumb to violence, others are barely conscious, blood pouring from their orifices as they unknowingly pass away. Every soldier dies differently, and that is why I remembered the face of each one vividly that night.

Finally, a Muslim soldier was brought in, by the very same soldier that struck him down. This time, it was a Hospitaller who did the deed.

“You dragged him all the way over here?” asked a dedicated medic, shocked and appalled.

“I drove a sword through his fucking heart, man! Let it alone!” the knight screamed in response as he pulled his helmet off, running his bloodied hands across his face and hair. “Fucking hell!” He lowered the same hand to grab his arm, which was gushing with blood.

The men demanded Heloise and I care for the enemy soldier while they cared for our own men. We pulled the pointed Syrian helmet off his head, and jointly eased his plated mail off. I grabbed a wedge of linen, and pressed it to the bleeding wound. I held it closed as tightly as I could, hoping that it would stop.

“Its no use” Heloise whimpered, knowing she could not finish the sutures in time “He’s lost too much blood, he’s going pale.”

“ _ Hamida, Hamida, is that you? Where did you go? _ ” the soldier groaned in Arabic, eyes rolling about in his head, unable to stay open.

“ _ I am here. It's going to be okay _ ” I responded softly. “ _ Take this _ ” I slipped a spoonful of jelly onto his tongue, and he swallowed it weakly. I had been administering it under the tongue to avoid overloading the senses, but this man did not have much time.

“ _ My only daughter, i'm sorry I couldn’t save you. _ ” He choked, mouth salivating from the reception of opium “ _ My pride and joy, my morning star, I think of you always. _ ”

“ _ Its okay, papa _ ” I responded, my voice cracking as I struggled to maintain a decent  accent “ _ I love you papa, its okay to let go now. _ ”

He gave two last whimpers as his blue lips and brown eyes trembled and closed forever. He died in an enemy tent, and I didn’t know how to pray for him, or even what his name was. All I knew was that he was a father, and that there was a little girl named Hamida that he proudly held in his arms once.

“Ladies, cycle through the other patients.” one of the Hospitallers commanded, the same exhausted despondency wracking his face.

The battle that lasted an hour felt like it lasted several. When at last the battle was declared won with a retreat of Saladin’s forces. There was no celebration in the tent. I didn’t know if it was because word of the second ambush had spread, or because we were all too busy saving lives to care. The ambush eventually came, and this time we heard it closer to the tents, though I dare not look outside. Were it not for the soldiers I was tending to, I would have been out there looking for Baldwin. I was beginning to feel sick with the agony of waiting, waiting for the news that he was injured, or dead. Despite being part of a larger army, the second harvest of death was proportionate to the first, and with our prepared army, the battle was declared won. 

I would have believed I changed history in Jerusalem’s favor, but Baldwin was right, and this was the reality of war. There are no victories for humanity, only politics. 

Celebrations began outside the tents. It was around four in the morning, and every man that wasn’t broken or exhausted was drinking or partying with their friends the small entourage of prostitutes and entertainers that covertly followed wherever the military went. When I was finally able to excuse myself, I went to the King. I was dressed in white, but even without my apron, splashes of red decorated me. It was something I would have to deal with, because I needed to see him.

Guards remained outside of his tent, but they remembered who I was, and did not turn me away. When he accepted my audience, I went inside. Candelabras dimly lit the room as the king reclined on his daybed, reading his book of hours amidst a mountain of pillows.

“Have they totaled the dead, yet?” His voice was grim and anemic.

“I don’t know.” I responded, devoid of emotion. I imagined my complexion was awful due to a lack of sleep and the ghosts that followed me from the medical tent, I was grateful he couldn’t see me too well in the candlelight.

“Come closer” I saw the silhouette of his hand slowly waving. He pushed himself up with one arm, holding the book of hours in the other. I rushed around the wooden table at the center of the tent to aid him. He was no longer in his armor, it was which was folded over wooden chair beside the table, likely by the physicians that tended to him before I arrived.

“Will you pray with me?” He asked, our eyes joining in mutual sorrow. It was a stark contrast to the celebrations outside the tent.

“Of course” I helped him over to a wooden cross in the corner of his room. It was aged and faded, it looked like an heirloom that had been passed down for generations. Flawed gold leaf in the design and precious gemstones still glimmered in the candlelight, but the item had very often traveled for use, a testament to the traditions and faith Baldwin upheld.

> “ _ Blessed Mother of Christ, she who protects the sick and the dying.. _
> 
> _..please continue to grace my reign, bless my family, my people, and my realm.. _
> 
> _..ease their souls from purgatory, and carry them to your kingdom. Amen. _ ”

I was guilty of being unable to follow along with all but three hail Marys, and instead opted to listen, which he did not seem to mind. 

"Are you well?" I asked as I helped him off of his knees.

"I had to dismount, my muscles weakened as I tried to ride.” The frustration in his voice was clear, alleviating slightly as I sat him down at one of the chairs at the table at the center of the tent. “It becomes even more impossible each year. What is a king who would expect men to follow him, without first leading them?”

I sighed, sitting myself down at the other end of the table “The leaders of my homeland send young men to fight and die in old men’s quarrels. You are not like those men, you are selfless and lead by example. Even when your body fails you, you insist on being here. You love them. You could never fail them. You’re above that.”

“Thank you.” He responded. For a moment, it looked as if he was moving his hands towards mine, across the table. He quickly set them still before him.

“ _ Nasir _ ” he called. The servant boy whose name I had not learned until now, entered the tent, quiet as a mouse. “Pour her some wine.”

“You don’t have to, your majesty.” I responded politely “Judging by the sounds outside, the soldiers will be needing it more than I.”

“Nonsense, you’ve earned it just as much as they have.” He praised me as Nasir poured the dark beverage into a silver chalice.

“ _ Nasir, thank you _ ” I looked up at the boy. He was oddly calm, even pleased, given the circumstances. He disappeared outside the tent, and I wouldn’t see him the rest of the night.

I took one small sip of the wine, it was dark and strong, but it felt warm as it went down, nothing like the acidic swill Reynard carried in his flask. “I haven’t had wine since I left home”

“There is no shortage of it in Jerusalem, you know.” he laughed “I’ve never met an Italian so unenthused by wine.”

“I’m pretty unorthodox” I smiled at him, setting the cup down with both hands. “You know that”

“One of your many charming characteristics.” His words made me blush, I hoped he couldn’t see the ridiculous grin on my face. “Unpredictable, logical, you’d make a great chess player.”

“I’m… adequate” I tried to recall my performance in chess club during high school. “Nothing special”

“Alas, I have not brought a board with me.” he pined “and it wouldn’t be fair to intoxicate you before such a game.” He observed my face carefully, seeing that I was interested in remaining in the tent “Assuming you will forgo sleep as I will tonight, do you know of an alternative to pass the time?”

I thought for a moment, “I do, but you might not like it.”

“Oh?” His interest piqued “Explain, maybe I would.”

“It's simple. With two or more people, each individual takes a turn choosing ‘ _veritas_ ’ or ‘ _provoco_ ’. If they choose ‘ _Veritas_ ’, the other party must ask a question to be answered truthfully. If ‘ _Provoco_ ’ is chosen, they must accept a challenge.”

“Intimidating” he reacted with fascination “It sounds as if you could learn a lot about a person that way.”

“If you choose _Provoco_ , I will go easy on you. Promise” I tilted my head, resting it in the palm of my hand. I had finished my wine, and was feeling brave.

“You may ask me the first 

“ _Veritas vel Provoco_?”

He hesitated “ _Provoco_ ”

“I challenge you to…” I grabbed “Draw me as I count down from ten.”

“Oh, what a cruel woman you are” he laughed “With only my left hand unbound” He quickly scribbled an outline of my face as I counted down from ten seconds.

“Wow, that’s actually pretty good” I looked at the image up and down, it was a cherublike silhouette of my face, eyes looking up, pupil-less eyes wide and joyful. Medieval artwork is notoriously very stiff and uniform, with little distinction between individual people, but Baldwin's sketch was very individualized, and drawn as if from memory “Can I keep this?”

“Yes. It is  _ your _ face, after all.” he responded “ _ Veritas vel Provoco _ ?”

“Mm..  _ Veritas _ ” 

"Have you ever kissed someone?"

"Yes" I smiled, remembering the awkwardness of high school "Once when I was fifteen, once when I was eighteen."

"What was it like?" he asked in amazement, and without a hint of judgement or scrutiny "To be kissed for the first time?"

"Wait your turn your majesty" I chided him playfully " _ Veritas vel Provoco _ ?"

" _ Veritas _ " he responded, engaged after getting the hang of the game.

"Name a place you've always wanted to go"

"Lands unknown." he chimed " _ Veritas vel Provoco _ ?"

We continued over and over for hours, learning little things about each other that we did not know before. We dared each other to lay side-by-side on the slightly-dusty, very expensive throw rug on the ground, where we continued our game. When I dared Baldwin to do this, I allowed him to lay on his daybed. He insisted on laying next to me on the ground. We mostly asked for our truths. Baldwin hated sweets and was scared of the dark until he was eight. His favorite animal was the Impala of sub-Saharan Africa. One flaw of his he wished to improve on was his poor judgement of character. His favorite subject during his education was Ancient History. His least favorite thing was archery, because leprosy caused his eyes to dry and blur, thwarting every bullseye. I dared him to say the Nicene creed backwards, he almost had it.  


In return, he learned that I feared painted jesters (clowns). My favorite subject was Classical Literature, least favorite was Mathematics. He knew that as a scholar, I knew a great deal about his genealogy, so he asked about my family. I told him everything I remembered my mother, and I named every one of my aunts, uncles, cousins, and second cousins.  


“ _ Veritas _ ”

“A djinn offers you three wishes” I explained “above everything else, what three things do you wish for?”

“Hmm..” He tapped his bound fingers against the rug as he thought about his answer, reminding me of the closeness of his body to mine. “To be closer to God.. to create a lasting peace, and to have a wife and children.”

His third wish caused a sharp hiccup of joy to escape my throat. I knew he heard it, so I made my quick recovery “Ah-adding ‘children’ counts as a fourth wish, your majesty!”

"I'll have to find another djinn, then.” He yawned “For in a perfect world, i’d be the proud father of many.'' I sealed my mouth shut again, blushing and fawning over the mental image of him proudly cradling a newborn in his arms. “Now you, go ahead.”

“ _ Veritas _ " I managed to respond without swooning  


“Why don’t you look away when you speak to me?” he asked, plainly.

“Am I supposed to?” I thought it was an odd question at first, I had always been taught that you must make eye contact when speaking with someone out of respect. Outside of cultural differences, I only scarcely considered how the rule might apply differently to the king. Baldwin was both in a position of unmatched power due to his rank, and a position of universal revulsion due to his condition. “I look at you because I am speaking with you. Why did you ask that?”

“Mm.” he withheld his answer.

“ _ Veritas vel Provoco! _ ” I asked quickly

“ _ Veritas _ .”

“Why did you ask why I don’t look away from you?”

“Because everyone always does. It hurts for them to.” his voice was more faint than before “And you only look away when you’re sad.” He turned back to me, eyes smiling. “Make your decision.”

“ _ Provoco _ ”

"Sing your favorite song." he commanded sleepily.  


"And you call me cruel" I laughed, "I'm a terrible singer" I became embarrassed, there was no escaping his majesty’s command.

"Then torture me.” He joked “I’ve not heard a Tuscan melody before.”

“It's not Tuscan, its something else.” It wasn’t my favorite song, but my mother sang it to me as a lullaby, so I knew it sounded fine without any instruments. Turning on to my stomach, I crossed my arms, tucking them under my chin, and began to softly sing the words as I remembered them

 

> _somewhere over the rainbow,_
> 
> _way up high_  
>  _There's a land that I've heard of_
> 
> _once in a lullaby._  
>  _somewhere over the rainbow,_
> 
> _skies are blue_  
>  _and the dreams that you dare_
> 
> _to dream,_  
>  _really do come true._

 

I stopped, my heart racing with embarrassment at my timid and breathy voice. I lifted myself up and rested my chin in my hands, hoped he would accept a single stanza.

“Is that all?” He asked. “Keep singing, please. You have a lovely voice.”

 

> _someday I'll wish upon a star_  
>  _and wake up where the clouds are far be-hind_
> 
> _me._  
>  _where troubles melt like lemondrops,_  
>  _way above the chimney tops,_  
>  _that's where_
> 
> _you'll_
> 
> _find me._

 

I paused again, nervously tracing my finger along the designs on the rug, continuing only after realizing I did not have to worry about earning his approval. I already had it _._

 

> _if happy little bluebirds fly_
> 
> _beyond the rainbow_  
>  _why, oh why_
> 
> _can't I?_

__  
  


Though I stopped for good this time, he didn’t urge me on. Instead I found his head turned towards me, eyes closed as his chest rose and fell softly. He had fallen asleep, looking at me, and I was too embarrassed and shy to look back at him.

There were two truths to me; one was that I was a woman outside of my own time, the other was that I had fallen desperately in love with him. I had to tell him one of these truths. Both could not be said without the other.

“ _ Truth _ ” I whispered to him in English “ _ I only looked away this time because I was embarrassed _ .” 

I did not know how he felt about me, but I thought I would have another opportunity to tell him. When we ventured back to Jerusalem. When things were perfect. When the stench of death did not linger so heavily in the air. I would tell him from whence I came, and how I felt about him.

Not wanting to disturb him, I took a blanket from his cot and spread it over him, shielding him from the chill that still lingered from the desert night. I extinguished whatever remained of the night’s candles and left the tent.

* * *

The mid-morning seemed normal enough, save for drunken men lingering about. A few sober guards on duty stood guard, conversing in french around dying fires, with their blankets wrapped around them. Paid female company loitered on the laps of some, other soldiers laid back with their tunics covering their faces, trying to rest after a night full of violence and decadence.

And then the arrows came, some on fire, burning like shooting stars.

I heard two whistling sounds behind me that I didn’t register at first, until I saw them everywhere, I immediately ran for cover behind something, anything. I chose another date tree.

That second ambush wasn’t the real one.

I looked out upon a neighboring hill to find the source; the Ayyubid army in the distance fired upon the drunken, prideful Jerusalem. I couldn’t see the infantry from where I was, but I knew that they couldn’t be far behind. I had two places to be. The medic tent would suffer a few scratches, but would hopefully remain unharmed. I needed to get back to Baldwin. I needed to make sure that Sibylla’s prophecy did not come true.

I rushed back, retracing my steps and trying to avoid being trampled by soldiers retreating on horseback. Baldwin was arguing with his commanders about evacuation procedures.

“They will besiege the camp, we aren’t leaving quickly enough.”

“Your majesty!” I shouted “Please, you need to leave, now”

Baldwin turned around and held my face between his hands “Get on your horse. Ride southwest until you reach a tower.”

“No!” I cried out “You’re going with me, you said yourself you cannot mount a horse!”

“Do as I say” He commanded, the sternest he had ever been with me. “Do not disobey me. Leave, now.”

I stared at him as he drew his attention back to evacuation.

“ _ He cannot mount a horse _ ” I reminded myself “ _ but I can _ ” I thought of his armor, still inside of his tent, folded up on one of the wooden chairs. I ran to the back of the tent and snuck in, no guards were present, going to form the front lines in defense of the weakened camp. I pulled my gown down to my knees and kicked it aside. The chainmail was uncomfortable and cold when worn over the wrappings I always wore under my clothes, and it was loose around the ankles, I didn’t care. I eased the pale blue tunic bearing the royal arms of Jerusalem over myself, and wrapped my discarded gown around my head

“What the hell are you doing?” asked a heavy voice behind me, it was Bartolomeu.

“Trying to be a hero.” I made my comeback as I eased the coif onto my head.

“The king never rides alone, you know.” He added “Luckily i’m in a generous mood today”

“I need his mask.” I insisted. “I need to ride out of here, now.”

“It's on his face. Just cover up as the common lepers do.” he urged “And you’d best get on a horse before they get here.”

“Sir Bartolomeu?” Humphrey entered the tent, urgency in his voice. Bartolomeu hadn’t even time to respond before an arrow cut through the air and slipped clean through Humphrey’s skull. I had never seen anything like it before, the Lord’s eyes bulging from his head before his knees buckled, and he fell into a fetal position on the ground. I remembered screaming as soon as I saw the arrow exit his head, followed by spurts of blood and brain matter. The ongoing yelling and shrieking of men in retreat blurring reality further.

“Look at me, Susana” Bartolomeu shook me firmly by the shoulders “There was nothing you could do. You couldn’t save him. But if you still want to save the king, then you need to follow me.”

Hysterical, but driven by commitment, I grabbed my discarded gown and followed him out of the front entrance of the tent where I had only minutes before been singing my gentle king to sleep. I concealed my face as I rushed out. Polaris was mounted just outside, and I quickly rushed to her, hastily mounting myself on her back as I continued to try to keep my face covered. If the Ayyubids were watching, I didn’t want to give myself away too quickly.

“I’ve found a decoy” Bartolomeu told his Grandmaster “Do as you said you would and get the king out of here, ride with the other Templars. We will meet you at the fortress.”

“Who the hell is that?” the Grandmaster pointed at me.

“A noble sacrifice” Bartolomeu responded “Lets not argue while we flee for our lives.” From the distance, the thundering of hooves told us that Saladin’s army was approaching.

“I will ride with you, then. Saladin and his generals know my face. His Majesty and the Templars will escape with Tripoli.” The Grandmaster mounted his horse at the same post, wherein he pulled Reynard from the mess of men answering the retreat “Welshman, where is your armor?” He yelled, circling the groggy ginger on horseback.

“I just bloody woke up!” Reynard shouted back. He was exhausted, but sober. He would live.

“Nevermind, belongings be damned. Get a horse, escort the king, Head southwest, get to Beaufort.” He looked him in the eyes, in a display of sympathy I hadn’t yet seen from the Grandmaster “This isn’t like before, you can’t fail this time.”

“Yes sir” Reynard acknowledged, revitalized.

I rode towards Baldwin as he was walked by attendants to Reynard’s horse. “I’m sorry, your majesty” I revealed myself and tossed him my gown, which he caught in his arms. “I’ll need to borrow this” I pulled the mask from the top of his forehead. Out of respect, I did not look at him, respecting his desire to conceal himself, hence me offering my clothing as a temporary mask. All I saw before I pulled his mask away was the terror in his eyes as he realized who was riding on his behalf. I heard him shout my name, twice, thrice. Holding the mask to my face, I did not turn back. I couldn’t fail him, I told Sibylla I would prevent this.

_ “I should have told him” _ I told myself as Bartolomeu, the Grandmaster, and a few other knights and I rode off “ _ Will he know I loved him by this sacrifice alone? _ ”

We charged through endless rows of burning and charred tents, bodies decorating the semiarid earth. Saladin’s infantry had arrived, and all that were on horse immediately caught wind of us as we rode on. Off in the distance, I briefly looked upon Saladin himself. He wore all black, but he was impossible to miss. Surrounded by attendants, silently commanding the battle was the greatest sultan of the medieval world, and his gaze fell upon me as I rode away.

When at last we reached the hills, we knew we were still being pursued. Gradually, the scenery around us became more green, more lush, until we reached an oasis surrounded by palm trees and dark grey moss-covered stones. For a few seconds, it would only be Bartolomeu and I in this place. At the edge of this oasis stood a woman in white robes, her dark hair falling about her as she sat on a rock, dipping her delicate feet into the jade-colored water.

“ _ Mama _ ?” I called out, recognizing her face despite missing it for centuries “ _ Mommy _ ?” my hot tears steamed within the heavy mask.

“No, it can’t be” A distraught Bartolomeu called out to the woman. “Gianna”

The image of my mother turned to look at us, I heard her call my name. Her speech sounded warped and amplified, like it was coming from all around me. Then, without warning, she disappeared in the blink of an eye, as if claimed by the breeze.

“No…” I heard Bartholomeu whisper “You are her child.” Bartolomeu turned to look at me, I began struggling to hold the mask steady. Still fearing for my life, I didn’t know how to respond.

“Bartolomeu, move!” Screamed the Grandmaster, catching up behind us, Saracens not far behind him.

“God damn it” Bartolomeu yelled, turning to face me. “God damn this world.”

“Put that sword down!” The Grandmaster screamed as Bartolomeu drew his to face me. I, caught in a haze of grief and panic, was unable to register everything that was happening. At last I heard the sound of a slap, and Polaris bolted through the grass, after being whipped by the Grandmaster. At the other end of the oasis approached a group of more Ayyubid soldiers. We were surrounded, Polaris paced and neighed, frightened, when at last she reared, knocking me to the ground as she took off in some unknown direction. The mask fell beside me, its empty eyes looking up to the clouds. Barely conscious, I walked my index and middle finger towards it so that I still touched the edges. Barely caressing the edge.  


Dirt and grass pressed into the side of my face and between my lips. I dislocated my left shoulder during my fall, and was in too much shock to even get myself off my feet. Amidst the mass of footsteps, I heard Bartolomeu’s voice.

“I’m sorry.” his words were full of regret “I'm so sorry.”

He drove his sword through the mail, I felt it splinter and fragment inside the flesh of my shoulder, the sinew of my body splitting in the blade’s path as I shrieked in pain. I don’t know how long I cried in agony, but it continued until I finally passed out.

“ _ Suzie _ ” I heard her voice, full of sorrow and grief. It had been a decade, but I remember it. I saw her delicate feet that I swore I saw her dip into the oasis only seconds before. I felt her hand caress the side of my face “ _ Baby, what happened? _ ” I wondered if she was going to carry me into the afterlife, where we would wait 1000 years together for Charlie and Dad to join us. Where I would wait only five for my beloved king to join me,

* * *

I expected to crawl on my belly into the darkness, with some light at the end of the tunnel. It never happened like I expected, nothing ever did. But there was light, it was a pale orange that glowed from the outside of the tent I was being treated in. There was sensation; the sand beneath my fingers, which told me that I was not in the pastures of heaven nor the fiery pits of hell. Instead, there was a gap in my memory between laying on the dirt, Jaw aching from my fall, to when I finally became conscious inside of Saladin's camp.

" _Mama_ " I managed a single word " _Mom, where are you?_ "

"I'm not your mom, Suzanne" a young man's voice spoke in English "But I'm letting you know it's gonna be okay"

"Where am I?" I moaned, my vision finally settling. I tried to hoist myself onto my shoulders to look at the stranger, but couldn’t put any weight on my injured left arm, though the joint had been mercifully popped back into its socket. " _Where... is the army_?" I rubbed the thick haze of blood loss from my eyes “ _The.. king_?”

"King Baldwin is alive, holed up a few miles south of here, and probably very pissed at both of us."

"What.. is going on?" I groaned, at last I saw my captor's face. It was Nasir, Baldwin’s "servant". He wore layers of fine yellow and orange clothing, and a blinding white shemagh on his head. His outfit was a far cry from the humble uniform he wore at the palace. Now, he dressed the wound in my neck. I was a prisoner of war. Nasir, the boy whom had sat in the background for my meetings with the king, was speaking modern American English. Not only that, he had been working for Saladin all along, and was likely responsible for the idea of the third ambush.

“You’re lucky that Templar didn’t graze your subclavian artery, or you’d be dead.” He told me as he finished redressing my wound. I didn’t respond, I just stared at him. “You don’t know why i’m speaking English yet, let me explain.” He lowered my head back down onto the ground. “I’m a traveler just like you. Try to listen as best you can, don’t think too hard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Armenia going "red" = Founding of the Armenian Soviet Socialist Republic in 1920  
> -'Tuscan' is a variety of Italian languages, but mostly the Florentine dialect, which forms the basis of standardized Italian (Thanks, Dante)  
> \- 'djinn' is synonymous with 'genie'. That one might be obvious to some but hey.
> 
> Commentary:  
> I was thinking of ripping off the really sweet piano scene from Dogfight (The 1991 movie with River Phoenix) but I felt like Judy Garland was more appropriate.  
> Sorry if the time travel stuff is immersion-breaking or doesn't jive with everyone, but the next chapter is gonna go over time travel. If you're unfamiliar with the Outlander series, here's a quick summary of how time travel works in its universe (If you don't want spoilers for the show's storyline, just read the red text) https://www.ign.com/articles/2017/09/07/the-rules-of-time-travel-according-to-outlander  
> It'll help prepare you so the next chapter doesn't seem like a clusterfuck. (This chapter was actually gonna be way longer, I just sliced some of it off for the next chapter to avoid information overload.)
> 
> Next chapter:  
> Susana learns about time travel and forms an uncertain bond with fellow time-traveler Nasir, wondering if she can trust him.  
> POW adventures, and being ransomed back to Jerusalem. Oh boy, that's gonna be heavy.
> 
> Thank you for reading =)


	11. One Small Step, One Giant Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One can find redemption in the holy land. They can also find pain; good and bad.  
> You won't know which until you make that leap.  
> You cannot find peace unless you confess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession of love in this one, finally. Hope you enjoy!

 

The gift of traveling was hereditary; a gift from my mother and grandmother. Nasir knew this, because he knew both when he first traveled back, and struggled to find out what had happened to him.

He grew up in Iran to a well-off family during the seventies. About ten years after I disappeared, Iran had a revolution that displaced his family from their home, and they had to relocate to the United States. He grew up not too far away from me, and graduated college with a degree from the California Institute of Technology, where he majored in Biological engineering. It was during his global pilgrimage on a visit to Jerusalem in 1982 he realized that he had a rare gift, one that allowed him to move through time via certain waypoints throughout the world. It was through later communication with other time travelers that he found out there were other portals; some natural, some manmade, as mine had been. His portal was the well of souls, located directly under the Dome of the Rock. Jerusalem is an ancient city, one of the oldest in the world. There was likely more than one portal, perhaps buried beneath the newer layers.

“I’ve only been back once, and that was for supplies. My family doesn’t really like having me around anymore.” he pulled out yet another book, this one a chemical formulary book. He seemed informed about my pharmaceutical hobbies, and he was cross-referencing my strategy with their 20th century counterparts. “Interesting, you have the penicillin nailed, but I can’t imagine sun-dried grime would be palatable to anyone.”

“You went _back_?” His first statement caught me off-guard, as I had accepted that a return journey wasn’t possible.

“Well, shit.” He muttered faintly as he scratched the back of his head, wondering how to answer me.  “You really don’t know do you? You can travel back on certain days of the year, or with..” He paused to rummage through his pocket; he pulled out a luxurious purple satchel of crushed velvet and reached two fingers inside, pulling out a sparkling red gemstone. “..or with one of these. I’ll bet that’s why your cross-necklace-thing was missing one” He continued “When you travel, its like a long voyage across time and space, there are few people in the world who are able to do it, and it wears on your body like one if you don’t have the right tools for it.”

I stared at him for a long time. I accepted that I would never return home, I had begun to build something of a life in this place, and then I was being told that I could go home at any time, if I only had a few shiny rocks.

“What happened..” I swallowed “After I disappeared?”

“I’ll be honest, Suzanne, uh, do you prefer Sue or Suzie?”

“Suzie is fine.” 

“I really don’t know. I only remember that your disappearance made headlines for a few months, and that there were a few conspiracy theories; mostly suspicion of trafficking and false flags.” Noting the discontent on my face, he put his hand on my arm “Hey, don’t blame yourself, you didn’t know.”

“I see.” I rubbed my face again, feeling dirt mingle with sweat in streaks across my face “Does that mean time passes concurrent to here? I’m sorry, I just..”

“It does, at least It did for me. And don’t worry about it. The sultan is just going to ransom you back to Jerusalem, and you will be my ward until then. I’ll make sure you get back home” He noticed my silence “Do you _want_ to go back home?”

“I.. Yes?” I whimpered “Holy shit. I don’t know.” I began laughing, feeling as if I had gone insane following massive blood loss “I don’t even fucking know.”

“You’re still unwell, you can figure it out once you’re back in Jerusalem.” He took a damp cloth and wiped the dirt from my face. “We have a long way to go. I brought a few synthetic fabrics with me, you can use them to cover up; they're more protective from ultraviolet light than what you find here. ” He tugged lightly at the dirty, ragged shawl that he had folded neatly beneath my head as a makeshift pillow.

“Wait, Nasir. You seem wicked smart. Why travel here of all places?” I winced, trying to move myself into a more comfortable position, the pain was unbearable "You wouldn't happen to have- argh! that Opium stuff I told you about, would you?"

"Oh, Suzie. I’ll do you one better!" He laughed, pulling a white pill bottle from his satchel "Well, I'm so flattered; I’m a treasure hunter, but it goes deeper than just mineral wealth” He pulled out a small book of notes and sketches, and flipped through them. “Look at these; the Ark of the Covenant, Unicorns, Flamel’s philosopher’s stone.. There are items of power that have been documented over throughout history." He handed me a small chalky pill with the word 'Vicodin' embossed into the side, which I took with a glass of water he left by my side.

"Um Nasir. I haven't done as much research into this as you, but I'm not sure at least two of those don't exist"  

"Maybe they do, maybe they don't. You and I aren't so different. We only believe what we can see.” He paused, wondering how to make me understand “Look, the wars don’t end after Vietnam, they continue all over the east.” He looked at me to check if I was following along “You and I are proof that there are greater forces at work in this world, I want to find something good, something with power that can be felt by people who aren't like us, so that we can all build something better together, a millennium from now.”

“And you’d do it through.. treasure hunting?” I asked in astonishment, flipping through an extensive catalogue of things that may or may not be in Jerusalem 

“Yes, though my travels are not as exciting as Indiana Jones.”

“Who?”

“Nevermind.”

“Have you even found anything like this?” I asked.

“Not yet, but with this sum, I intend to go further back from before.” He was referring to the satchel of gemstones he was carrying. The very same he likely paid for by selling out Jerusalem as an agent and informant of Saladin. 

"Well, I wish you luck" I encouraged him "As for myself, I'm not sure i'm ready to open Pandora's box"

"Pandora as in.. The Jeweler?"

"Nevermind" I smiled at him, laying my head back down on the nest of ragged fabrics.

 

* * *

 

As weeks of my imprisonment passed, I began to trust Nasir. Despite my subjugation to him, he never harmed me nor laid his hands on me in any way aside from medical care. He was indisputably charismatic, and an easy person to talk and connect with, and he told me stories about my mother, whom he knew before her death. It was through her and my grandmother that he learned of the hereditary nature of travel.

But over time, I began to notice he had a general lack of empathy for the death and suffering of the 12th century, noting medieval strife as “unfortunate” or “necessary” in the great formula that would eventually lead to the modern world. Though he was not wrong, this was where we found our greatest distinction between one another. He was a man of science, and lived in the future. I was a historian, and (figuratively) lived in the past. The mutual aspiration that bound us was a hope for a better future, by understanding the ages that came before.

As we rode for hours, we would at times enjoy a simple silence. I had weeks to come to terms with what had happened. The battle of Marjayoun was lost, and I imagined that the king would not want to speak with me again, but I had spared him from Sibylla’s prophecy; I had fallen in battle in his stead.

The Battle of Marjayoun had been initiated by Jerusalem in response to Arab encroachment in the northern provinces. This encroachment was made in turn by the construction of a fortress in Jacob’s ford, and that is where Saladin's army marched, and I imagined Baldwin's did, too. 

Prisoners of war were kept in guarded cages, as the only female prisoner, I was kept apart from the others, hence my wardship to Nasir. I was nervous about being alone in his presence, initially. He seemed to notice this discomfort as he offered me a new set of clothing to wear.

“Don’t worry, i’m not some pervert” he reassured, “Even if I was into chicks, I wouldn't ever do shit like that.”

Reluctantly, I went behind the room divider and bathed in the wooden basin, easing days of dirt and grime out of my skin and hair with rose oil soap. After patting myself dry, I worked my way into the confusing, layered clothing. The top layer included the halal full coverage of my captors, but the clothing itself consisted of a midriff, and what I could only describe as cream-colored “Harem Pants”.

"I look like Scheherezade" I kicked my legs about, the soft fabric clinging to and releasing from my legs.

"Hopefully you can tell stories like her, too. Might mellow the king out a bit." Nasir responded. I made a lot of historical and classic literary references, but this one he actually understood.

"Why do you say that?"

"He's a little bit obsessed with you, not in a bad way, though" "After you filled his head with NASA selling points, He watched the moon every night, drawing the surface of it, sometimes till his eyes got dry."

"He drew me" I pulled out the slip of paper I had kept confined against my breast, unfolding it, "Its actually quite good"

"He draws a lot, not much to do when you're bedridden" Nasir grinned "I think he's in love with you."

"Stop that" I turned my face away, chewing on the inside of my cheek as my face turned red "Where is Jerusalem's army, now?"

"Tiberias, but the Knight's Templar is stationed in the fortress of Jacob's Ford." Nasir's servant brought a plate of pomegranate seeds, melon, and cheeses. “The tower isn’t even completed, looks like its gonna be an easy win.” He ate idly at a slice of melon before pushing the plate towards me with the back of his hand "Eat something, you will need your energy to travel. You will be ransomed back to Jerusalem. Saladin does not like to give the impression that prisoners of war are treated inhumanely"

"Are the men outside dressed this colorfully?" I asked as I fixed my hair up into the dark blue turban Nasir had given me. It was similar to his, with a map of the constellations embroidered into the entire piece. My outfit was remarkably similar to his, although far less gaudy, and with less bright colors.

"Think of it as my gift to you" he chuckled as he shoveled a handful of cheese into his mouth "a souvenir for when you go back home." He tilted his head as I turned mine downcast "have you thought about it?" he continued "going back home?"

"If.. If things don’t work out with the king, maybe." 

"Looking for a little power while you’re out here?” I didn't respond  “That’d definitely be interesting, and I can’t think of anyone more worthy of playing with history. Just try not to hurl when the mask comes off, its pretty bad.”

"I saw men die out there, Nasir. I saw men with caved-in skulls and vivisected guts. I don't think I can be horrified by the human body anymore"

"Alright, chill out. I won't press you if you've gone native. Just be careful out here"

The clinking of chainmail and the bellowing of Arabic commands outside of the tent signalled the soldiers' readiness to fight. Men outside the tent suited for battle and marched to their formations.

"You know Jerusalem's history, yes?" Nasir noticed my quiet observation of the noise outside as he began tying a doctor’s apron around himself.

"A bit." 

"Who will win this battle?"

"Saladin." I stated blankly "You may run and tell him that. But I think he already knows."

* * *

 

I was not allowed to operate on the injured as Nasir did. But Nasir possessed actual medical training, leaving the soldiers in better hands than I could lend. Still, I felt useless as I stood idly by.

I waited for hours as the distant battle was fought and won. I stayed outside of the tent, atop a hill, covered from head to toe as the sandy tumult of the wind blew at my robes and niqab. The same wind that caressed me so gently first threatened to bury the disappearing soldiers under Jerusalem’s sands. I looked from afar for a great, shining cross, the relic of the true cross, though I knew Christ would never ride into this place willingly.

As the battle died after 8 long hours, more prisoners arrived at the camp. With knees buckling under me, I wandered to another palm tree, wishing that I too could stand so strongly against the winds and storms the palm could endure. I leaned my head against the trunk, feeling the thready prickles of the bark poke through my headdress. After my quiet contemplation of the wars, I headed back to Nasir’s tent. I was not anxious to be seen by the other soldiers. Nasir eventually re-entered, covered in bloody gloves and apron, looking more like a butcher than a doctor.

"Look who I found!" He dragged in a Templar soldier, bruised and bloody with his hands bound, wearing only his tunic and a black executioner's hood. Even before Nasir took it off, I knew it was Bartolomeu.

"It was mostly templars in there" Nasir cackled "It was a bloodbath. Isn't this the one who tried to kill you? " He lowered Bartolomeu to the ground gently, if only to preserve his work "I stitched him up, I took the hippocratic oath, after all. But i'll leave his life in your hands."

I looked into Bartolomeu's tired, defeated eyes. With hair and blood clinging to his face, he almost looked like one of those sad images of Christ carrying the cross to his own death. He

"Just fucking kill me" he sneered "I did try to kill you, if only to protect you from this freak."

"That's not very nice" Nasir chuckled, kicking the uninjured thigh of the knight, he knew Latin after all. He sat cross legged on the floor as he poured a hot cup of coffee "Oh wait, I do remember you. _Sister Gianna_ 's lover?"

"You…" I knelt down in front of Bartolomeu, desperately searching his eyes for answers "I don't want your life. I want answers!” With all my might, I forced his weak body upright into a sitting position, leaning him against a support beam of the tent so that I could look him in the eyes Who was Gianna?" I cried out angrily "What the fuck is going on?"

"Otherwise known as. Mariana. She was born to a wise woman named Maria, her namesake, in another time. She went by Gianna here to avoid her mother’s reputation for pagan traditions." Bartolomeu choked on his words, his throat was hoarse and his face and neck covered with sweat. I took a sliver of pity on him, and handed him a cup of lukewarm water to drink. "I knew about you, and your brother. She thought she wasn’t a good mother for either of you, she thought faking her death would be kinder."

"Now it makes sense." Nasir turned back to face me, "When you travel, you usually need a beacon to "steer" you to a certain point in time." His voice softened "I was there when she passed, Suzie. I was an understudy to your grandmother. Mariana confessed everything"

"’Kinder’?" I wailed “We never got closure, my father was destroyed when she died!” I felt wounded that she remained in Jerusalem for him, a part of me felt he _stole_ her away from my family. I was angry. I was jealous. I hated him. Despite it all, I knew it wasn't his fault, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that through the raging flurry of emotions. My father grieved, my brother and I grieved.

But in that moment, I was enraged. And like every intense emotion I felt, I wanted to bury my anger. I wanted to send him away.

“I did love her, Susana, I really did.” He added, weakly “After I lost my wife and child, I didn’t think I could love again, it hurt too much, but she brought light back into my life.”

“What about her children and husband?” I yelled in response, so out of focus I had to fight reverting to English. “My mother abandoned us! She did it for another man?”

“Bright as she was, you can’t convince women like her that they deserve the love that they have.” He bowed his head again.

“I can take him away, if its too much” Nasir inched over, trying to speak as comfortingly as possible through my incoherent wailing. Bartolomeu slumped over as tears and mucus dripped from his eyes and nose.

“No” I shook my head “Cut him loose”

Nasir did as I commanded and sliced Bartolomeu’s bindings off with an ornate black dagger, which he handed to me. The disgraced knight balanced himself on his knees, only meeting my eyes as I held the dagger up against his chin,

“I don’t want to see you again.” I wept, the dagger trembling in my hands, though he and I both knew I couldn’t have killed him even if I wanted to “If I see you again, I will tell them that you broke your oath and laid with my mother, a married woman.

“Do not sully her memory, I am already rotten to the core.” He chastised himself “Let me desert and carry all the shame it offers. You will not see Bartolomeu of Coimbra ever again.

I couldn't let go of the angst I felt over my mother, but I let him go, allowing him only the clothes on his back and a flask of water as he braved the desert. I could not live with his blood on my hands.

"Heavy stuff, i'm sorry about that" Nasir commented as I silently handed his dagger back.

"I'll get by" I grumbled, my head and stab wound pounding. "No offense, I just want to get the hell out of here. I want to be anywhere else but here."

* * *

 

The middleman weighted ounces of Gold as each hostage was screened by the highest ranks. Imad ad-Din, one of Saladin's upper echelons, and a negotiator by trade, oversaw the exchange in the tent. Jerusalem handed over all of its Muslim soldiers in exchange for some, while the difference was paid by the church in exchange for Templar hostages.

Present was Jerusalem's king, but the losses were even more bitter when Saladin himself did not show. I heard his voice from where Nasir and I stood outside the tent. I had been put in full black covering, which became unbearably hot quickly, even in the dusk’s sunlight.

"There was a woman who was taken into your custody" he seethed "And no word on her condition has been given yet."

"The Alchemist" an arab soldier's head poked out from the tent "Nasir"

"Showtime" His voice beckoned as I circled around him, despondent as I entered the tent, heart wrenching as the king came into view in the citron shade of the tent, seated at the center of Jerusalem's negotiative side.

"Rotten little saracen bastard" Count Raymond seethed as he recognized the former servant.

Baldwin's eyes followed the traitor too, silently. His face was covered with white bandages.

"And I believe this belongs to his majesty" Nasir handed the shiny mask I had escaped with. I looked down to it and back to the king, ashamed of myself.

"How are we to identify this woman?" Questioned Patriarch Heraclius, a small, grey-haired man whose responsibility was funding the ransoms of Christians. “Is there anyone present who could recognize her?”

"I could." responded the king, taking his strides toward me. 

"We covered her for modesty, her current guardian would be glad to-" The ransomer's suggestion was cut short

"Your majesty." my voice trembled as I held his mask out to him, which he snatched from my hands. From beneath his hood and the network of bandages obscuring his face, I got the simplest preview of his features; the curve of a cupids bow upper lip, pale, exhausted flesh and honey-colored eyebrows hovering above the blue pools of his eyes. In an almost symbolic display, he reached an arm around me and pulled me into something that felt like a hasty embrace, which he quickly phased into pulling the niqab from my face, and pulling and mask from my hands.

"Its her, conclude the ransoms on my behalf, Count of Tiberias.” He looked bitterly at Imad ”Is there still no sign of the Iberian that tried to kill her?” 

“He deserted in the night.” Imad responded, no doubt briefed by Nasir in some way.

“Then there is no more to be said” Baldwin responded “I have already signed the treaty, despite Saladin’s refusal to participate"

Imad seemed annoyed by the remark, but said nothing. I felt Heraclius’ eyes follow me at the mention of a treaty.

"I'll see you around, Suzie" Nasir stated in English "Hopefully in a more civilized year." He drew his willowy fingers away from my own, and slipped between the folds of my bound hands were two rubies, likely intended for my journey home. I held them loosely as my twine bindings were severed with several pops, and I watched his majesty disappear once more in the company of guards.

During the journey home, I did not meet the king once, trying instead to conceal myself amongst the pilgrims who travelled alongside the Templars. It all happened as well expected, I blended in as best I could and waited for the hours to pass, and after I arrived, I returned to Maria, the one whom was apparently my grandmother, only to find that she too had left town for the week. Thankfully, she did not discard any of my belongings and I collapsed on a pile of pillows and slept. As the days passed, I did little but study and linger  alone in the lower apartments of the marketplace, lounging upon Maria’s endless piles of books, reading and learning of topics such as Nutrition. When I had the nerve to, I searched some of her collection for anything that could reference time travel. I still had the Chemist's guide hidden in my inner pocket, prodding under my ribs. If I could understand any of what was in it, perhaps I could use it to my advantage at the alchemy table.

I read the arab copies of Roman medicinal texts and found enough ingredients for dark herbs that could be useful for women trying to conceive. It wasn't long before another book caught my eye, it was an unmarked tome on her desk, it was bound in plain, dark leather, with a single, dark embossment at the center where a Gem could be inlaid. I lifted open the first few pages and thoroughly observed everything I saw. It was all written in Greek, and the rough, smudged chickenscratch ink established that this was a notebook of some sort, not anything made for publication. They were various combinations, many of which were scribbled out.

And then I found Nasir's portal; the well of souls sketched within. There were other sketches like it, several resembled mosaics, mostly Justinian-era Byzantine. There were others, as well; fairy rings, Japanese Tori Gates, and what looked like a circle of standing stones in Scotland.

". _..Circles._ "

_“The All is One”_

My fingers traced over the Ouroboros on one page, my eyes drawn in the same direction. It was a circle, passing over the serpent eating its own tail, closing the circle.

"Where have you been, Grandma?" I murmured to myself before hearing a knock on the door. I pulled a shawl about myself and opened the door to find Heloise, looking far more fresh and rested since last I saw her on the battlefield

"The Lord is good" her voice trembled as she embraced me, resting her chin on my shoulder "I didn’t believe you were back when the King sent for you. Did they hurt you?"

"No, but Bartolomeu did" I hissed, exposing my bandaged arm to Heloise, the knight’s name rolling off my tongue as smoothly as sandpaper

"So I heard. He was reported dead as a prisoner of war, though there was no body. The knights Templar complained that-"

"They'll make do without a body" I interrupted "My family and I didn't have a body when they buried.." I wiped tears from my eyes with my inner arm as mention of Bartolomeu triggered painful memories "when they buried my mother."

"You should sit down, you’re not yet well” She held my hands “Whenever you’re ready, the king requests your presence" She observed the pain in my expression "And.. I have Mongkut in the stables outside..." She put her tiny, pale hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk? About what happened?”

"Where do I begin?" I laughed, pulling her inside.

* * *

 

I knew I was about to make a leap.

The tempo of my footsteps followed. I was still wearing the Eastern clothing Nasir had given me. I didn’t know what happened to the belongings I had in the hospital tent. I didn’t even know what happened to my horse. Had things been different, there would be far more celebration in this palace. Had Jerusalem not incurred massive losses at Marjayoun, perhaps Jacob’s Ford would not have occurred, and the kingdom would still have it as a stronghold.

Allowed in by the guard, the king's apartments seemed smaller than usual, perhaps due to the late hour, lack of candles, and the fog undulating in the distant landscape.

"Your majesty" I iterated as respectfully as possible as he loomed over a chess board.”

"Please, sit down." he lifted his head from the pieces of ebony and ivory to passively greet me. I stared at the chair, and proceeded to apologize.

"Your majesty, i'm sorry" I apologized "I disobeyed you, I stole the mask from your face, and I made myself a liability as a prisoner"

“Hush.” He waved a hand. “Just sit. How is your chess game?”

“Without practice” I took a seat on the ornate wooden chair. I looked at the stationary pieces, wondering if he was testing me somehow. I hadn’t touched a chess board since high school, and hoped my propensity towards logic would benefit me somehow.

"Jacob’s Ford” he lamented, deep disappointment in his voice as he moved his first pawn. “So near to completion, lost in just a few hours. I fought so hard to build it.”

"I’m.. So very sorry.” I tried to console him, despite my discomfort and the obvious elephant in the room. I surrounded the black king pawn with two of my soldiers “After all the effort you made to keep building it, its truly a shame.”

“Hm.” he leaned back, eyes fixed on every possible move against me “Well.. It could have been far worse.” His king cleared one of my soldiers, answering my queen clearing one of his. He looked back up at me. “We could have incurred far more losses.”

“Your majesty.” I swallowed, despite the dryness in my throat “Are you not upset with me?” He still had two rooks in the game, and knocked my last one off the board.

“Yes, a bit.” He managed to peel his blue eyes away from the board, towards me. I was grateful for the poor lighting in the room, I must have looked terrible due to lack of sleep and skipped meals. “I just want to know why you did it.”

“I did it to save you.” I hovered my index and thumb over the board as he patiently anticipated my next move “You would have fallen in my place had I not been there.” I knocked out his king with my bishop.

“You were given an order to follow the retreat.” He scolded, eliminating my bishop with a pawn. “And you did not obey your king.”

“I didn’t die that day, but I came close” My queen slid across the board, removing his rook. “But even if I did, I would have been content in my decision.”

"Who is king of Jerusalem? You? or I?" His voice was full of frustration, I knew it was not solely towards me, but towards his physical and logistical losses after the two failed battles. “I gave you an order.”

"You!" My voice exploded, I eased down as he stared at me, wide-eyed “You are my king, you will always be my king.” we made our moves hastily, keeping in time with the rising tension in the room. “But i’m not a pawn in your game, I won’t blindly follow orders when I know there is a better way.” I finished what would be my last move “Every man is given free will by the Almighty, I will keep it as he intended, however I decide to play my own game.”

“Hm.” He looked down at the chess board in multifaceted contemplation and made his final move “Check mate.” He was good, most of his major moves had been sacrifices of his bishop, rooks, and queen.

“Good game.” I sighed, looking out onto the balcony at the distant stars, which were becoming more visible as the late autumn fog began to disperse.

"You could have died" he shook his head "Do you have any idea how.. how much you would have been missed?"

"No.. I didn't" I was dumbstruck, and ashamed. I had convinced myself that I was all alone and had nothing to lose this time, when I was wrong. I had friends, I had ways to contribute meaningfully to this time and place. “I didn’t factor in how my death would affect those I care about. But that was still _my_ error, a mistake _I_ made.”

And last but not least; I had him.

"What I would have done if they hurt you" He lifted my left hand inbetween his covered ones and pressed them against the lips of his mask. It was a display of affection that broke my heart, and I felt a deep sense of unworthiness to be touched by one so lovely "I would have… I would have succeeded Alexander. I would have stormed Damascus. I would have left Persepolis’ heir a mountain of ash and ruin. "

"Please, no more" a knot formed in my throat, and a few stray tears trickled down my cheeks, catching strands of my hair as it fell before my face "Please don't talk like that anymore." I leaned into the table and took both of his hands into mine "Please don't talk about going back to war now. Not after everything that’s happened."

"Could you not know the affection I have for you, _mon amie_?" He pulled away to look me in the eyes "Do you know what its like to worry for the safety of someone you care so deeply about, hour upon hour, day after day, et cetera?”

"Yes! In fact, I do!" I pinched two fingers together as I spoke, "It was my concern that drove me to follow you." I hesitated again and lulled my head backwards, repressing the three words I wanted desperately to tell him. Concern was not the only thing that drove me to be so protective of him, it was more than that. So, so much more. 

When I looked into the blue of his waiting eyes, I felt like I was a teenager again, on the sunset coast of my home in a distant land. It was a faith-based retreat. Other church youths and I spending the late afternoon at the precipice of a lagoon. I remember little aside from the rocky cliff, the blue water, and palm trees. So many palm trees. There was also cheering, egging from my peers as I anticipated a dive into a deep lagoon below. My sun-kissed toes danced on the edge. The water was warm and still, his eyes were soft and gentle.

 _Should I tell him?_ I asked myself _Do I dare tell him?_

There were no peers egging me on to jump today, only my own heart and all the angels in heaven, and the welcoming eyes of a man that had been deprived of love for most of his life.

"I love you, Baldwin." 

Splash.

The room went completely silent. Even the popping of candle wicks and the evening songs of insects seemed to pause after my confession. The water was always a little colder than it looked.

"Why?" He asked

"I don't know, but I'm really in love with you" I crushed my face into the palms of my hands. I regretted the leap, but accepted that I had made it "And I've never felt this way before, but everyone was right. Love makes you do stupid things, it makes you abandon reason and consideration." My voice was full of sorrow, for I was both talking about myself and the recent revelation of my mother's affair with someone I thought was a friend. “Maybe its part of what made me jump so quickly to your rescue.”

"Fleur du lys, Lilyflower" i felt his hand slide down my shoulder further until he was holding my wrist "You are more fragile than you think you are. But that was not what I meant"

"What?" I choked, embarrassed for him to see how red and congested my face had become after the flurry of emotions this reunion had become.

"I meant, why could you love me?" He spoke as if he didn't want to believe it "There are other men in this city, healthy, virile men of good standing."

"None of those men are you" I took his consoling hand between mine "If ever I was to spend my life with someone, I'd want to enjoy that time with them"

"You will outlive me by decades" he sounded slightly panicked "And I cannot touch you as a husband could, else I would condemn you to my fate as well." He pulled the hood of his white robe down to his shoulders “You have seen the flesh beneath this mask. I could never do that to you.”

"You can say no, Baldwin. You can tell me to leave and i'll go away, for a few days, for months, even forever. I can even go on being just your friend, and hopefully one day I can part from my feelings" I was stifling tears, as was he. "I didn't see your face when I seized your mask at Marjayoun. I tossed you my robes so you could maintain the privacy you desire. I’ve never seen your face at all, and I love you anyway.”

“ _Ma’damoisele._ ” He cooed “Go sit on that daybed, over there, and close your eyes" he ran a thumb under my right eye and withdrew them as I stood up and sat down upright into the cushy recliner, closing my eyes in obedience.

I felt him next to me, his body was so close to mine that I felt his heart racing. At some point, he stopped moving, but there was hesitation, and I waited for some time for his command.

"Now, open them"

He had dug up every possible excuse for me not to love him, short of questioning my integrity. He must have anticipated me to feel disgust, even fearful of him. Perhaps he expected me to flee from his company forever.

To say he was classically handsome would be incorrect. His flesh was pale and dressed with scars and sores. One scar resembled a burn wound, where a battle wound had opened and healed and re-healed with varying rates of success. He had a delicate curve to his lips, his natural structure was strikingly beautiful, and enhanced by his bright blue eyes. His nose was diminishing, and a large gape along the side of his mouth exposed the outline of his maxilla. His hair was a crop of tousled, dark blonde locks that shone in the candlelight like threaded gold. I tilted my head as I looked at his unusual features, and my heart swelled with affection. This was the man I loved with all my heart, and his wounds probably ran deeper than what I saw in front of me.

" _My God_ " I whispered in English, gently hovering my fingers over the sides of his jaw "Are you in pain?"

“It depends...” He spoke quietly, trembling as my fingers finally caressed his face “It depends on whether you still love me or not.

“I do” I smiled, overjoyed, crying tears of joy “I love you so much. I just want to know if you feel any pain because of your disease.”

“I stopped feeling pain on most of my body long ago” His voice was so gentle, moreso without being obscured by his mask. He put his right hand over my left as I caressed his face. He sighed and closed his eyes, taking in the moment before tracing his index finger along the gaping scar along the side of his face. "The battle of Montgisard. It was a scratch, but it festered”

“ _Caro Mio_ ” I embraced him, resting my head against his neck before returning to gaze upon his face. “I wish I could take your suffering away.”

“It was a beautiful summer.” He responded dreamily, looking down at the mask in his lap “I cannot trouble myself with the cost. I would live in that victory over and over if I could.”

He pulled his hood over his head again.

“Baldwin?” I asked, concerned as he fixed his mask back onto his face.

His voice sounded panicked "And now I feel i’ve made a terrible mistake.". He pulled his hands away “Are you going to go away, now?”

"Only if you wish it" I kept my hands to myself, understanding that he had just made himself incredibly vulnerable to me. "Your face is a part of you, but it is not all of you. I love you no matter what you look like."

"Are you not afraid of being cursed by God as I am?" His eyes pleaded for an answer. He looked at me again "You are so beautiful, could you cope with your beautiful face decaying as mine is?" His anguish was poorly concealed by the metal sheet. If eyes were the window to the soul, they were working tirelessly to betray him to me.

"I could" I held his face in my hands "Because one day I will be an old, old woman, covered with wrinkles and grey hair, and I will not be as beautiful as you say. I will gladly accept the ravages of time and fate upon my face, but I don't want to live knowing I did not let you know how I felt.

"I'll hurt you" he turned away, struggling to his feet "I will not live to have wrinkles, but you will. You will live to read your scrolls, write your books, practice medicine, travel the world.. Have a family." His voice broke on the last part.

“You’ll only hurt me if you push me away.” I took his hand “Please, Baldwin. 

"You're so lovely" he remarked weakly, unable to look at me, his palm struggling to wipe away tears that sat behind his shimmering facade. "You're so beautiful, Christ help me." He sat down next to me again, struggling to stand up straight.

"So are you" Noting his trembling arms, I invited him to lean against me as I reclined on the bed. I kissed the top of his head and embraced him as he lay on top of me “Thank you for sharing your face with me, I know it wasn’t easy.”

"If only you could have seen me at Montgisard" he responded with far less intensity "Many say I was handsome as my father was. I could swing a sword and ride Polaris without taking a tumble" he paused "I wish you could have seen me then, back when I was still a man who looked the part of a king."

"You were a boy your majesty," I laughed "An incredibly talented boy, to your credit, but I prefer the man you've become, even if you don't."

"Your culture is so unusual" He hummed we both gazed up towards the patterned designs of the ceiling “A sixteen year old is fully mature.”

"As someone who also was sixteen once, I absolutely concur” I giggled “Sixteen is an age for the young to discover who they are. Take you for example; in your psyche, its the age in which your role as king was culminated.”

"Is that when you decided to become an alchemist?" I could tell he was smiling as he spoke.

"No, that I figured out.. a bit later in life." I wanted to tell him the truth about where I came from, but that was a burden for another day. Even if Baldwin and I could never be together, even if he would die young and I would outlive him for nine hundred years, he deserved to know that he deserved love and affection. "Should I go, your majesty?" I pulled my hands off of him, realizing how late the hour he was getting.

“Just a bit longer.” He implored. "I've missed your company."

For the first time in days, I was mostly content. For the first time in days, I slept soundly, isolated in that palace with the man I loved in my arms. There was too much trouble in this world for me to be over the moon, but I had taken a leap. I didn't regret it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sleepy right now so no footnotes yet! I wanted to get this chapter out on the anniversary of the moon landing but hopefully this is close enough.  
> Thank you for reading and being so patient! I just got a new job so i've been trying to adjust to a new schedule!


	12. Give Peace a Chance (+Art)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love, family and peace. Everyone is just trying to move forward towards better, brighter things.

**A/N: Something I drew for this fic a little while back. I'm usually shy about sharing my art but I thought "Why not?"**

* * *

 

I awoke early in the morning to the sound of Yellowhammers outside the palace windows. I stretched and reclined comfortably on the daybed, uncertain of where I was. I cracked my eyes opened and swallowed to ease my throat. I was slightly dehydrated, and sat up to look for water before I remembered.

“ _ Ohh no _ ” I thought to myself. I had woken up in the King’s quarters. The last thing I remembered was playing chess, and holding him in my arms. I looked to see if there was a soul around. The last thing I wanted was to create some kind of scandall, but I also wanted to know where he  _ was, _ or if last night's troubled bliss had happened at all. 

There was a pitcher on the end table nearest to the daybed. The water was room temperature, but it would do, my throat immediately felt relieved after I drank. Without a comb, I pulled the tangled tresses of my hair loose with my fingers so that I could appear at least vaguely well-groomed. The medieval world was entirely lacking in proper mirrors, all I could do was look into the reflection of shiny metal or hope for the best, kneading the back of my hands against my eyes and mouth. I walked round the corner of the apartments, looking for the King. I found him sitting on the portion of the balcony that overlooked the garden. He ran on a strict schedule, and was already dressed. He was always finely-dressed, but he was more austere this time, keeping in pace with his duties as he read over a devotional book.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. “May those who love you prosper. May there be peace within your walls, and prosperity inside your fortresses.” he sighed “Saladin and a military dispatch will arrive today, and I will go to sign the treaty.”

“Thats…Wonderful news, Baldwin.” Surprise staggered my speech. My reaction came out far more emotional than intended, as I remembered the lives I watched end at Marjayoun and Jacob’s Ford. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know what this will mean in a greater context” he continued “I don’t want to appear weak, but I also know I cannot sacrifice my men as we are. Despite this, I cannot say the consequences of my withdrawal will be.”

“ _ Speak softly, but carry a big stick. _ ” I quoted a certain role model of mine. “You are no emperor, you are a king. The sultan suffers because his realm is too expansive for him to manage alone. Take a page from his book.” I took a seat adjacent to him, the polished wood squeaking as it shifted over the tiled ceramic floor of the balcony.

“And yet others would have me believe it would only give him time to recuperate.” We both stared at the shifting leaves of the cypress trees that dotted the atrium area we gazed down at. "He is like a tumor, and negligence could ensure his spread"

“Still, a cold war is a better alternative to bloodshed.” I encouraged him to maintain peace, no matter how fragile.

“If only the others shared our beliefs.” He responded wishfully “You remember Lord Raynald, yes? He prefers we take a more aggressive stance. He was once my regent, if you didn't know.  He hasn’t quite let go of the power that comes with it.” 

“Like your mother?” I smiled, brushing my hair back over my shoulders, reminded of the woman who seemed to dislike me from afar.

“Yes” he chuckled “Just like my mother.” 

I remember Lord Raynald, as a voyeur of the History of Frankish Jerusalem, I also knew a bit about his backstory. Though I dare not ask about it, I knew he suffered tremendously for years as a prisoner of Muslims. He was a man that paid this cruelty forward, torturing prisoners and even higher ranking members of the church out of sheer pettiness. It made sense that he would be keen on exacting revenge for his experiences against Damascus.

“Tell me, has the Almighty shown you a world without war? Where Christians can travel to this kingdom without fear of violence?”

“None” I was not going to dig myself into that hole. I did not specify that the city would see endless conflict for centuries until the Six-Day-War in 1967. Perhaps I should have asked Nasir about Jerusalem’s fate. At the very least, I could encourage Baldwin to follow the path of peace, so that he could see a more peaceful kingdom in his lifetime. “It is our responsibility to create such a world.”

“I am done with aggression and calls for conquest. I hope that, in the coming days, you will stay at my side, to help me ensure I lay the foundations of a more prosperous world.” He reached into the inner pocket of his robe and dangled my mother’s cross on his bandaged hand. I was relieved, as I had a feeling that Nasir may have stolen it, along with anything else he could have finessed from the jeweler. Gold did not rust or dull, but somehow it seemed shinier than before., A deep red, shiny ruby was enclosed at its center. It was beautiful, and sparkled gently in the morning sunlight. “I had forgotten to give you this last night, I'm afraid I was too distracted by our discussion.”

“Thank you.” I took the cross into my hand “I don’t know what to say, but this means the whole world to me. Thank you.” I took his hand, tightly wrapped in bandages, and kissed where his knuckles were. I half expected him to pull back, fearful of my affection. He didn’t, though I watched his eyes close from behind his mask, body language that could have been a display of contentedness or disgust. People of the twelfth century believed leprosy was spread through physical contact, hence the full coverage he wore. Perhaps he felt the gloves, bandages, mask, and concealed flesh were an effective hazmat- not only for his protection, but for everyone else’s. I ran my thumb over the soft wrappings and wished I could hold his hand, really hold it. I wanted him to feel our palms touch, and fingers intertwine. I wanted to run my fingers through his hair and kiss him between the eyes. I wanted to show him affection with more than just gentle words, and as he moved his other hand over mine, I prayed he felt the same.

I lowered his hand and rested mine over it, pulling my hand away gently, resting it against my own arm rest as we both sat silently, looking out at the garden. I knew from the trembling hands, from the gentle way he spoke, and from his excruciating concern, that Baldwin felt the same love I did. Yet, he did not know how to love me. Before me was a young man whose life had been planned out for him before he even understood it all, not once in that plan would I factor in. I was unexpected and unwelcome. Even if he turned to me for confidence or guidance, I could not give him the answers he needed. All I could do was be there, in that moment, and that was enough. I would give him anything he asked of me, but enough was all I could offer.

“Baldwin” I tried to recapture his attention as he remain enraptured by his own thoughts and fears, he turned his head to me in silent acknowledgement. “Whatever decision you make, the world will go on. You are doing the right thing, I promise.”

“Mine is a kingdom of problems” he sighed “and few solutions.” He looked down at his bandaged hand, mindful of the dying flesh beneath the wraps “And so little time.”

"I meant what I said last night" I folded my hands on my lap, holding my breath heavy in my chest. "I don't know what else I can do to help you, but I want to try. I will always be here for you."

I knew something more was on his mind, but I didn’t want to press the issue, not when he had too much to worry about. "Walk with me" He asked, continuing to look forward. I stood and helped him to his feet, supporting him over my shoulder as he stood up. He turned to face me, inches away from my face as I looked past the eyes of his mask. "Thank you" he gripped me tighter, even as he balanced himself comfortably. We walked together down the cool staircase, my bare feet patting the stone silently with each step. I had forgotten my slippers inside the apartments, but did not mind. Perhaps I was simply not used to them, but European slippers were terribly uncomfortable.

“I wish every morning was this pleasant” he wrapped one arm around my shoulders. “Time passes so quickly when I am with you.”

I felt my cheeks blush as he held me against him, our steps clumsily out of tune as we walked so closely together. “I feel like every other time we see each other, its after I get myself in some kind of trouble.”

“Have my word that you shall never be a prisoner again” He lowered my hand so that it fell around my waist “Not for as long as I live.”

“I can take care of myself” I giggled, looking up at him, hoping my just-woke-up face wasn’t as horrible as I made it out to be.

“I know you can.” He turned me so that I was facing him, and he raised his hands to hold the sides of my face. “I will protect you anyway, because you have done the same for me.”

“I would do it again, for you and your family. For everything you’ve done for me.” Truth be told, I was spoiled growing up. My life was unbelievably easy at home. If left destitute in this time period, I would have likely already been dead. I had Baldwin and Sibylla to thank for hosting my well-being. 

“ _ Je t’aime _ ” He squeezed both of my hands as we paused under the spotty shade of an acacia tree. I giggled and embraced him, kissing the side of his mask and resting my head on the curve of his shoulder.

“I love you too” I responded, it was true. It had always been true, I loved him in the year 1180. Even if no one was left alive to remember it, even if we had to hide it forever; it was real, it happened, and somehow I knew it wouldn’t end. Even after we were both the dust in the earth of Jerusalem. What I felt was stronger than any crumbling kingdom or fading order.

Foreign voices around the corner alerted us that we would have company soon, and I pulled back my hands, placing them, smirking at him and suppressing laughter as a triad of guards approached, none the wiser.

“ _ Your Majesty _ ” one of them spoke up “

“Latin, please, soldier.” He held a hand to them, looking at me. “We have company.”

“Saladin and his dispatch rest and prepare outside the Golden Gate. We must go to the negotiation table” he turned to face me “Chambermaid, why are you not in uniform? Where are your slippers?”

“A Camel ate them.” I grinned even as he looked at me with disgust.

“I’m ready to leave.” He stated, working his way out of his seat, looking back at me “That is, if my shoeless laureate is ready, too.”

“I, uh” I looked back and forth between him and his guards. “I don’t know if i’m welcome.”

“Lady Susana, forgive me, I did not know it was you.” He cleared his throat “Regretfully, I have to inform you, we’ve also received instructions from the Queen Mother to remove this woman from the court.”

“And your _King_ commands you to leave her be." He pointed a finger at him scoldingly "she is my court alchemist. She will also fill the curative position Archbishop William held. You will treat her with due respect.”

I had to stifle saying anything, I could not yet tell if this was yet another way he planned on keeping me out of trouble.

“Her position is important enough for her to bear witness to the terms. You will escort her to the table, and treat her with dignity.”

“Right away, your majesty.” The guard responded nervously, before extended a hand toward me. “This way, my lady.”

"Your majesty?" I stared at him, exploring his eyes for some explanation. I turned back to look at him twice, even as I followed the guard. I read in his eyes the words “ _ See you soon. _ ”. Regardless, knowing that the lady Agnes knew of how close I had become with her son, I knew it must have been a move made to protect me.

“Could we stop by the market stables, please?” I asked my guard “I would like to get my horse first.”

* * *

I rode Mongkut beyond the edge of the city, despite the camp's close proximity to Jerusalem, it was miles away from any Ayyubid encampment. The wear of defeat and the march to this camp was apparent on the face of every Islamic soldier I saw; sullen, defeated expressions beneath iron shrouds each man barely had the strength to walk in.

The sight inside the tent was the worst; I pulled my face mask up, and tried to listen to the negotiations past the rabble. I was the only woman in the tent, and I felt instantly uncomfortable in a room full of armored and well-dressed mem, especially given how small the group inside was. I lingered in the back, knowing I had little to offer.

How dull negotiations were. I felt like a hypocrite, I had eagerly anticipated the moment but couldn't bring myself to be invested in the details. Out of every talking head in the room only one man in that room could hold my attention. Well, perhaps three, but none as Baldwin did.

For a little while, I was like him. All but my eyes were veiled in unfamiliar company. I remained modest and meek at the back of the tent, quiet as a mouse, yet I knew mine was an uncomfortable and odd appearance in a tent full of men whose diplomacy only ever followed aggression. With any luck, I blurred into the background

Even if I tried, I could never captivate the room as the two kings did. Each was surrounded on both sides by advisors, and each was sitting across from his great adversary. Saladin was a narrow, but intimidating man, with dark, intense eyes, and a slight pallor one often sees in a person enduring stress. His brows were furrowed from the experience that comes from years of successes and failures. Such was the cost of imperium. I tried to imagine everything in his mind; grief, loneliness, and loyalty He sat across from his enemy; the boy, now a man, that had defeated him so brutally at Montgisard just a few years prior, was sitting in front of him.

Saladin wore an elegant shade of ebony, as did his viziers and all in the company of Damascus. Baldwin wore the luminous Ivory colors he often did, all of his advisors wore some shade of white.. The tent was a chessboard, but every piece was sitting eerily still. 

Two pawns did not quite fit in; the brightly-dressed Nasir, and, of course, me in the starry scarf he had given me.. We were man and woman out of time; moving our own souls, beginning our own games. 

“We have not yet received word of the Grandmaster’s welfare” declared Guy of Lusignan, one of the eight other men present in the King’s counsel. He had been taking detailed notes throughout the negotiations, his excellent penmanship a testament to his education.

“He’s dead.” Nasir stated, breaking his own silence, a smile on his face. He hadn’t looked at me yet, I was too far in the back, and my face was covered. He hadn’t seen me at all. “He believed he failed his God and kin at Jacob’s Ford, and died from melancholy flooding his heart.”

There was no such thing as death by Melancholy, and Nasir and I both knew it. I kept my eyes from lingering too long on him. Perhaps Grandmaster Odo of Saint Amand was just as “dead” as Bartolomeu was.

“If it means anything.” Imad added, his voice deep and full of insight “I too lament the death of the Grandmaster. He was a great warrior, and he fought valiantly at Montgisard.

Celebration of their own comrades’ fighting lives and fighting deaths. Incredibly morbid, though I understood why warrior culture was so important- it was honor and chivalric code that allowed these two different groups of men to acknowledge their similarities, rather than their differences.

“And of the Lord of Toron.” Saladin added, his voice was mature, wise. He was an older man, but his voice managed to sound spirited and passionate. “He was a frustrating man, but I admired that in him. He was difficult to compromise with. I wish I could have seen him fight.”

“You.. honor them both.” Baldwin nodded, mid-day light peeking through slits in the top of the tent and reflecting off of his mask. “Jerusalem accepts your terms.”

“And Damascus accepts yours.” Saladin responded respectfully.

The old scribe working tirelessly in the corner brought the terms forward, an orator read them aloud. “Oohs” of content and moans of decrying voices came from the witnesses of both sides. I always imagined more pomp and unanimousness in the creation of these treaties, the illusion was ruined by the reality: a group of frustrated men in a hot tent in the middle of the day.

Jerusalem would not build bases within a five-mile radius of the border into Islamic territory.

Damascus would honor the border and keep forces within a five-mile radius of Jerusalem's border.

Civilians were to be permissed free travel on any basis, with forces of no more than 10 protecting pilgrims, and 50 for merchants.

After the two victories Saladin had, one would wonder why he wasn’t moving forward with a full conquest of Jerusalem. It is important to know why raids had occurred on Farms north of Jerusalem, and why destroying Saladin’s supplies was so dire.

He was suffering Logistically. All was not well in his empire. In fact, there was an uprising within one of his conquered territories. Just as Gaul was a thorn in Rome’s side, Saladin was feeling the pressure of his empire simply being too big for a roaming, warring government to sustain. This armistice was just as important to his recovery as it was to the forces of Jerusalem. Even as Raynald of Chatillon tried to reject anything that gave Saladin an inch, every man in the tent knew both armies could not survive if the wars continued.

After dismissal, I was too far outside the City Gates to travel back alone. I would not have minded, but too many men were wandering about for me to feel safe. I waited outside the area fenced off for horses and stood by, idly, awaiting my escort. In the meantime, I did what I did best; I listened and learned. Three very important men were attended to by young squires, their decorative armor and clothing were being removed in favor of riding attire. They paid little mind to the covered woman adjacent to them.

“Is Fox present?” Asked the Grandmaster of the Knights Hospitaller, referring to Reynard. He was Roger of Moulins, an older man with long, greying-dark blonde hair, and a pure grey beard.

“Drunk.” responded an auburn-haired Templar, likely one of Spanish background. He was the only one not being refitted into riding gear. “Reynard is a fine knight, but he degrades himself by succumbing to his grief over the loss of one deserter, he could never lead us.” He pulled the top off of his flask and took a sip of the water therein.

“Perhaps you should be the new grandmaster,  _ Arnau _ .” responded Raynald of Chatillon “You were, after all, the only one that made it to this meeting.” The Spaniard was Arnold of Torroja, a native of Aragon. I knew he would succeed as Grandmaster a year from then, a position I did not know Reynard was eligible for. This begged the question, as to what would happen to Reynard. I had not seen him since my return, and I wondered how he was faring following the “betrayal and death” of Bartolomeu.

“We’ve already had one Iberian disappoint our order.” He was referring to Bartolomeu, and his possible failure to protect the Grandmaster “But we will discuss the Grandmaster’s succession after we consult the Pope.”

If Reynard wasn’t here, he was likely at the Dome of the Rock, in which the Knights’ Templar were stationed. I had no contacts in the Templars, the easiest way to getting in would be through Heloise.

“Cool niqab.” Nasir crept around the corner, joking in English. “I didn’t expect to find you here. That was pretty cool, first part was boring though, like sitting in a jury. I could tell his majesty was pissed off about me being there.”

“Is the Grandmaster really dead?” I inched closer to him, examining his face. It was in a state of perpetual calm.

“You were inside?” He almost sounded surprised, but he of all people knew of our shared tendency to end up in interesting situations. “More like missing. Who knows with the mess my guys have gotten themselves into. Death is easier to explain that absence with.”

He was avoiding my question, he knew something. The Grandmaster was probably still a prisoner, being kept to be ransomed off at a later date.

“Don’t take it too seriously, Suzie.” He playfully nudged my arm with his knuckle “For us, all of these guys are hundreds of years dead, anyway.”

“Away from the Christian, Saracen. She is returning home.” my Guard growled at Nasir in Latin, alerting me of his presence.

“Immediately, good man.” Nasir responded, returning the aggression with charm. “Seeya.” He waved to me, as if I was going to see him again, very soon.

He was the only other traveler I knew. He was also funny, and reminded me of my brother. I wanted so badly to have a connection with him, but I was too uncertain of what kind of person he was. I watched him silently as he left, and I pondered what game he was playing at

“It's time to return home, my lady. Do you need to make another stop at the market?”

“What do you mean?” I tossed my veil back over my head and wiped the sweat from my upper brow with both hands “The market is my home.”

“Are you not court alchemist, now?” He asked “Your new residence is the palace”

Damn, forgot that part.

“I will spend the night at the market, tying up loose ends and all that."

“As you say.”

* * *

I knew someone was home the moment I opened the door.

I had locked the door before I left. The padlock was gone when I arrived. The blinds were open. An aromatic black tea was brewing over the clay stove.

And Maria was at her desk, writing something in her alchemist’s journal. Green eyes never erring away from her task.

“Grandmother” I started speaking, hesitant, but determined

"That I am." She responded quietly as she continued to write away.  “I should have suspected it when you conveniently stumbled out of that strange little room the moment she died.” Maria sighed, finally putting her quill back into the inkwell. “Still, I couldn’t believe that against the odds, you’d end up here, of all places.” She was talking about my mother, of course.

“How old was she, when she died?” My voice was quiet. Maria was an older woman, but not ancient by any means. My mother might not have been in this time for very long before passing.

“Thirty Three.” she responded. I didn’t know how to feel. She was thirty years old when she left us. She had only been in Jerusalem for three years when she died. Perhaps we weren’t abandoned after all. I stumbled over to a pile of velvet pillows in the corner and fell to my knees, picking one of them up and embracing it. “The Turkish government sent a death certificate…”

“They’ll say a lot of things to wipe their hands clean, especially when see last names like ours.” Maria slammed her fist on the desk before finally looking back to me. “I’m sorry.” She got up and walked over to me, slightly slowed from her tired knees “Suzie, i’m sorry. I wanted to tell you and your brother, but i've traveled too many times. My body couldn’t handle it, and your mom stayed with me for awhile after my husband died" She explained that she hadn't been married to my Grandfather, he was of her own time and left when my mother was a teenager. Maria later escaped to the past to avoid Soviet impediment of her work, and sent Mariana to America to receive higher education.

“How did momma die?” I finally managed to ask.

Maria sighed and sucked in her lips, the topic was difficult for her, no doubt. “It was a miscarriage. She had fallen in love with a knight, and became pregnant with his child.” I exhaled at the revelation “But rest assured, she never forgot you and your brother.” The knight she referred to, was of course, Bartolomeu. I let her know I knew this. I had to piece the story back together, no matter how badly my heart wanted to bury it. I owed it to my mother to learn the truth.

“A-an anchor.” I gripped her hands desperately “I met another traveler, he said that she was the reason I ended up here.”

“Nasir..” Maria’s face furrowed angrily “God-Damn that Nasir. That wretch of a boy."

"How did you two know each other"

"He was a doctor in the Muslim quarter, but I knew his methods, he was also from the future. I taught him the nature of time travel, and we became friends. But not long after Mariana died, he ran off with all of my research. Everything I wrote on the nature of traveling”

“He talked a lot about going back in time and finding magical relics” I responded “Why would he have wanted your research?”

“He wants the Philosopher’s stone.” She explained that the Philosopher’s Stone did grant immortality, but in a different sense. Theoretically, It allowed travelers to move freely through time, and across space. If created, one could “anchor” themselves to any point in time and appear there. It was also reusable, not consumed by the portals as normal gemstones were. This could all be done without wearing on the body. "He will die before he ever finds it. I've looked for it my whole life, in lands both pagan and christian. My journeys have taken their toll on me, thats why i'm here. All i've learned is that some miracles cannot be explained. We simply have to accept them as they are." She embraced me, noticing my tears "That is how I can explain how after all these years, you ended up in Jerusalem. And how you hold no ill will towards me."

"Grandmother" I sobbed into her headscarf "I've always wanted to meet you."

"And i've always wanted to meet you, Suzie" 

 

And for the rest of the evening, and into the night, Maria and I spoke of my mother. I told her of America and what she missed after the end of World War 2.  I told her about Charlie and his volunteer efforts in Southeast Asia, and of his being drafted into the Vietnam war.

“Twenty two years and not married. Wise decision. Men are far too much trouble.” She cackled, puffing out a hand-rolled cigar into a small golden ashtray. "And how old's Charlie now? 24?"

“25 by now. What is that you’re smoking anyway?” I looked at the rolled paper in her hands.

“Pure Tobacco.” she blew a cloud of smoke out the window “Not that ‘cigarette’ crap your mom smoked.” she saw my surprise, and asked "Don't tell me you've picked up the habit, too?."

"No, I've smoked another plant but never got into it. Its just that this part of the world isn’t supposed to have Tobacco until 1492, where did you get it?”

“I brought seeds.” She nudged a clump of ash from the cherry of her cigar “I have poppy seed, too. You only had to ask, if you were curious about medicine." She leaned onto the elbow of her large arm "I saw your notes. How did it turn out?”

“It gives you a terrible high.” I laughed “But it'll definitely put you out for amputations"

“Well, what can you do.” She grinned “Mind if I ask if this and that moldy bread have something to do with you being escorted by the royal guard?” she lilted, taking another puff of her cigar.

“I’m.. I’m the king’s Alchemist, now.” I responded. “I learned how to take care of people, I was at Marjayoun and I learned a lot.. It was terrible, but I want to help people now.”

"The King.. that’s incredible.” She sighed in disbelief. “Alchemy is the only way of fitting modern medicine into this backwards society the best place to make improvements is from the top." she laughed. She was right, Alchemy would be the basis for modern chemistry, and pharmaceuticals.

"I gave Penicillin to the count of Tripoli when he had a nasty fever." I sipped at the black tea, swirling it as the infuser lulled around in the cup "He is still alive, but I don't know if it can cure Leprosy"

"It can, I’ve seen it happen in Constantinople-er, Istanbul. Its possible, especially given how archaic it is. It hasn't had to mutate and adapt to antibiotics like 20th century strains have" she walked over to an oak cabinet in the corner of her bedroom

"Here are some synthetic antibiotics. Your mother brought them to me, but I never needed them."

"Maria.." my voice trailed "But what if you do need them? What if you get sick?"

"Our immune systems have centuries of inherited immunity in their favor. I haven’t gotten sick here yet. But you know your mother, always worrying, always fretting over her nightmares."

"I never noticed that about her." I responded sadly "I think I was too young to remember" my tragic response.

"Thats right, i'm sorry.. Well, your mother was a worrywart. Always anxious and afraid things wouldn't go right. She used to have dreams about you and your brother dying in war."

I tilted my head. It was so strange to think about. She was only a decade older than me when she passed in this time. Three years had passed for her, fourteen for me. The memories of her disappearance were still fresh.

"But why the king, dear?" Her interjection interrupting my thoughts "How did you come into the court?"

"After I came through the Sepulchre, I was arrested for trespassing." I explained "I was arrested, I knew that one of the king's men was going to die and warned the Templars. I sort of earned his favor, I guess. He is my friend, too, and he's supposed to die young"

"A lot of young people die young here, Suzie."

"I like him. He has been kind to me since I fell through time, and he is a good man."

She took the empty teacup from my hand and formed a response to my beliefs "I encourage you to do as you like here, but remember this isn't a carnival." She took the empty dishes and put them in a bucket for dishes and began washing them, something I remember my mother doing as she listened to music or the news.

"I'm not trying to change the future, Nonna. He is a good king, but Jerusalem will fall into chaos after he dies. All of the people here are real, so is their suffering. I want to make it easier for them."

"Well, that is kind of you." her interrogation softened "I will support you in this, because I know I wish someone had done the same for my family when the communists came to Armenia."

"Nonna, i'm sorry" I hugged her soft, strong arm as she sat on a cushion to my side, despondent.

"Don't be, it was so long ago" She remembered our current position in the timeline of history "In terms of my lifetime, anyway."

“There is something I need you to know, though.” I added, “I will be spending more time at the palace, trying to make the king well. I’m going to ask if you can live there with me, it would be safer than this market, would you like that?”

“I’m happy here, urchins and all. I have connections here and i’m able to work undisturbed. Just don’t forget about your grandmother, come visit sometime.” She patted me on the back.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I smiled, happier than ever. I didn’t even consider going back yet, it was in the back of my mind; I had love, family, friends, and some semblance of closure here. I wanted to enjoy it for awhile. Maria and I spoke for ages until dusk and until it was time to retire to bed.

I wasn’t able to sleep, I lay by the window and stared up and out at the night sky. I’m not sure if I was ready to be an alchemist for the royal court of Jerusalem, but if Baldwin was serious, I was willing to try. I wanted to heal him, and be with him. I was ready for any and all responsibilities, and challenges that came with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for waiting so patiently for this chapter!! Sorry this ones a little short, It felt like it was full of hurdles for some reason. I couldn't write one paragraph without it giving me writer's block, but I think I got it down.


	13. The Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What are you supposed to do when two worlds are pulling you apart?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title. Yep. We're finally at this point!

I didn’t recognize Reynard when Heloise brought him to my door, he was pale, wearing plain linen clothing, he was unhealthy-looking, but sober. I hadn’t gotten my hands on any hard alcohol since arriving in Jerusalem. Truthfully, I didn’t even know where the soldiers got the hard stuff they carried in their flasks, but Reynard somehow always managed to have more than God.

“I’m sorry for coming here so early, he came to me for help but I don’t know what to do.” Heloise sounded panicked “He keeps vomiting this clear bile, and he's so dizzy he couldn’t even mount his horse.”

“Whats wrong, Fox?” I laid him down on a pile of pillows on the ground, propping his head up on a folded blanket.

“Head aching” He whined, squinting as he masked the beams of morning sunlight from his eyes with the back of his hand.

“I’m going to make you eggs cooked with lard, grease will help you feel better.” I ladled some water into his mouth.

“Is he going to be okay?” Heloise asked me, worried, rocking back and forth.

“Where I come from, we call this a ‘hangover’. Basically, the big lug drank too much booze, and too little water.” I ruffled Reynard’s long, red locks playfully. “He’ll be fine.”

Heloise followed me to the stove where she helped me light coals, something I was still clumsily adjusting to. I greased the cast iron pot with a spoonful of pork fat, and scrambled five eggs therein, along with some ginger and garlic to spice up the taste. Heloise, as usual, helped guide my hand, tossing the eggs rhythmically with a wooden spoon. I wasn’t the best cook, I had lived most of my life on a diet of Dad’s Risotto, and my college life on takeout. I would truly be helpless here, were it not for the help and patience of others.

“Something smells lovely” Maria descended from the second floor, looking around after stepping off the ladder. “I didn’t realize my bookstore had become a tavern floor.”

“He’s a friend, Nonna. He’s going through something right now.” I lightly salted the eggs and sat on the side opposite of Heloise as we fed the crumbling yellow meal to the Templar

“So he’s ruined your morning and made you his personal attendants because he can’t control himself?” A thin strip of wood leaned against the door, a section of the frame that had come loose. “Wake up, up and at ‘em.” She took the strip and whacked it against the calf of Reynard’s right leg. It worked, Reynard yelped and was suddenly far more alert, clutching the white flesh of his calve while groaning.

“Why did you do that?!” Heloise cried out. Were she not the ascete she was, she would have lashed out in a display of protectiveness.

“If both of you girls care about this man, you won’t coddle his bad habits.” She put the makeshift paddle back in its original place. “Heloise, how many women come to you and your sisters decrying their husbands drunkenness? You of all people should know better.”

“I tried to tell him he doesn’t have to drink to feel better, but he wouldn’t listen.” Heloise started crying softly. “What Bartolomeu did hurt me too, he was my friend also.” Heloise took Reynard by the arm and held his hand “But you can’t hurt yourself just because he hurt you, you deserve better than that.”

“Its not just that my best and oldest friend deserted us and tried to kill Susana.” He grumbled “The Grandmaster is dead. He took me under his wing just so I could do what he does.” Reynard looked around the room at the three women serving as his audience “Look at me, I  _ can’t _ do what he does. I can’t make the right decisions. I can barely take care of myself, how can I command the Church’s Holy Order of Knights?”

“God puts us in all kinds of strange circumstances, young man.” Maria’s demeanor loosened as she stood next to him, slowly sitting on the ground and crossing her legs. “Alcohol won't make you strong enough to endure them. That is your decision. Its okay to ask for help, but you have to do your part."

“You _do_ have friends, Fox.” Heloise’s sweet voice comforted him “Don’t fall down this dark path, you deserve better.”

“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his eyes with the back of his arm, sighing “Its hard, sometimes I wish my family was still alive. It sounds ridiculous, me being a grown man and all, but I miss ‘em.”

“And its fair if you do” Heloise consoled him “But none of them would want you to hurt yourself this way, remember that.”

For a few minutes we helped him eat, and I offered him lemon water to rehydrate his body, but I could tell from his despondency that he had far more on his mind than concerns of the future, and pain of the here and now “Tell us about your home.” I requested as I put away the half-finished plate of eggs. “Sometimes it helps to talk about the things that bother you.”  He rolled his head back, deep in thought as his gaze wandered through the wide gratings of the window “I miss Wales, my mum’s little cottage in Gwynedd.. Some nights you could see the torchlights from Castle Caernarfon, the pretty ladies in their fancy dresses.. Visiting all the way from France and England”

“Did you have a pretty lady back at home?” I smiled, filling a small basin with water so I could clean the dried bile from Reynard’s chest.

“Oh no, well, maybe the awkward pass or two but I was a scrawny, pale boy. I’ve never had the pleasure of truly courting a lady, well, maybe nearly..”

“‘Nearly’?” Heloise chimed in.

There was Carwen. She has this honey-blonde hair and little freckles all over her face. We only ever traded glances here and there but my, she was a vision.. I told myself i’d ask her for hand after I made journeyman in cobbling” I stared at him, eager for the conclusion to the story “But the plague came, took my mother and my older brother. My mother birthed and raised us out of wedlock, you see. Bound for hell they said she was for it, unless I could provide indulgence.”

“And that indulgence to save her soul..” Heartbroken for him, I finally realized “Was crusading.”

“Aye, I was good at it, and that's how the Grandmaster got me to join the Templars.” Reynard’s voice was low and heavy with nostalgia as he remembered joining the order, a moment in which after losing his family, his purpose in life was renewed.

“Do you ever regret your decision?” Heloise asked.

“Nay, I try not to regret things, but sometimes I wonder..” He paused for a moment before continuing his story “My mum was the one training me for cobbling, I didn’t have a future there after she passed, no matter what.” He hiccuped quietly “Excuse me, but I do think that.. Sometimes i’m just tired of killing people.” he sighed “My mother was a good woman- strong, kind, a good mother. She just happened to not be married to my father. Surely there must be a simpler way to save her soul from hell.”

Heloise and I didn’t need to look at each other to know we both understood the injustice in Reynard’s story, but it seemed far too unkind to tell him that we believed crusading wouldn’t save his mother’s soul.

“Fox, I want you to think of her at the side of the Blessed Virgin, there is no soul gentler than that of a good mother.” She held his face tenderly with one hand. “Your mother did her worldly job and she did it well. I don’t mean to speak for him, but the Lord could never condemn such goodness.

“What a great mother you would have been, Elli.” He jested to Heloise, who turned her head, blushing “The orphans are a great comfort to me, but thank you.”

“I sometimes wonder if my life would have been different had I asked fair Carwen to marry me.” Reynard appeared to look between Maria and I at once. “Be glad that you are bound by no oath, it is not too late for you.”

“I know you aren’t looking at me.” Maria remarked sarcastically “I’ve crossed that bridge long, long ago, young man.”

“Of course not, though I appreciate you opening your home to me.” He smiled at Maria before turning to me “Susana.” He clarified “Live your life, find a good man and raise children.”

“If ever the chance comes” I promised him, silently wondering when, if ever, I will be needed at the palace. “I will try.”

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” Heloise analyzed Reynard’s face.

“I’m fighting to send my family to heaven.” He was slumped over, crossing his legs and holding his hands together “But after the things i've done as a soldier, I don’t think i’ll ever join them there.”

“You can’t weigh your heart when its still in your chest.” Heloise patted him on the head as I silently listened, wiping his neck and collar clean with a damp cloth “God will judge you when your time comes, do not punish yourself.”

We all attended to Reynard until he was able to fall asleep. Heloise issued him a hospital note excusing him from the day’s service, though I allowed him to rest in my laboratory to appease my customer-conscious grandmother.

I told Heloise about penicillin, I told her about what it could do, and I tried my best to explain in ample detail how I had used it to restore the Count of Tripoli to health. The thought that a random immigrant carried the secret to curing a long list of illnesses to the body was absolutely ridiculous. Regardless, Heloise’s judgement generally favored faith over evidence. She believed me. I felt like I could tell her that I was from the future, and she would still believe me. I withheld the fact from her anyway. Something about it felt wrong; it was too crazy, too unusual, she’d think I was pulling her leg or making fun of her.

“What is that?” she asked, pointing to a yellow and black paperback sitting at the edge of my table.

“Its a book, its only got words and simple pictures, though.”

“The pages are so smooth..” She gingerly flipped through each woodpulp page, turning the pages as carefully as she would with a vellum manuscript. “And so thin..” She allowed one finger to stray, and earned a papercut for it “Ouch! Oh, and the cover is so unusual. The colors don’t look painted on at all. What language is this?”

“A form of English.” I replied “You can be rough with it, these texts are printed en masse, and are inexpensive.”

“Explains why I can’t read it.” She smiled, flipping through the pages rapidly “What does it mean to be ‘printed’? Does it have something to do with the tiny script?”

“Yes and no.” I responded as I connected two glass vials for filtering. “You basically have a giant wooden stamp for each page you want to make. The product isn’t as pretty as an illustrated manuscript, but it is easy and affordable for commoners to purchase.”

“I’ve heard of heathen priests in the far east doing the same with their holy texts.” She circled her thumb along the cracking spine of the guidebook. “It would be nice to stop having to write entire histories of the world by hand, thats for sure.” Reynard groaned sleepily and sat upright, rubbing his eyes. “Fox, do you think you could read this book?” She held the book open vertically, facing the small black text toward the redheaded knight.

“ _ Ni allaf ddarllen testunau Saesneg. _ ” he stated in what sounded like mumbling.

“Huh?” we both responded in unison.

“Can’t read English. Barely even spoke it in Wales.” He was faring better now, his cheeks were a healthy shade of pink, and his jovial smile had returned. “I wouldn’t trust a book of English medicine anyway, when I was born with a rash, my mum brought me to an English doctor.”

“A rash? He must have saw your hair and thought your whole body was on fire. ” I grinned at him  


“You can imagine the priest's jokes at my baptism." He laughed " This old  _ Sais  _ tried to convince her that the fairies swapped me for her real babe.” He ran his fingers through his dirty hair before leaning against the cool stonemasonry of the wall. “She slapped him across the face and managed to get her money back. Only fools believe in that fairy stuff, the only extra-ordinary power in this world is that of God.”

“I’m not so sure.” Heloise shook her head “Even the most educated and devoted Briton pilgrims bring me wild tales of the fair folk spiriting away people in the dead of night. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“They’re coincidences alright, albeit strange ones.” He elaborated “If you wander about the countryside a bit you’ll find these stones out in the middle of nowhere. They’re a relic of our Pagan past, but they’re still there.” “You can walk by ‘em, but you can’t stay too long. I’ve heard of people going missing all the time, but not the heathens that go there to pray.”

Nasir had told me about the stone circles, though my mind had already drawn parallels amidst Reynard and Heloise’s discussion. These myths don’t come out of nowhere, there is always an experience that sparks the imagination.

“But where do they go?” Heloise investigated. “Northmen tell similar stories of elves spiriting away people. All over the world, people disappear, but they can’t simply vanish” She shook her head “There must be some things in this world we have yet to understand.” 

“You’re welcome to, but no one from France has ever come to the Isles and seen a fairy. Odd, that. Almost as if they don’t exist.”

“Maybe its because only Britons believe in them.” She mused.

“Or maybe we’re just more special than you Franks” He joked, re-fastening the collar of his shirt. “I’ve never seen a fairy city or fairy house. I don’t know how the little people could carry away an enormous human, much less hide them.”

“Maybe they don’t go to another place.” I interjected into the conversation as I scraped the green growth from a sliced orange. “Maybe they go to another time.”

“There’s an equally crazy idea” Reynard quipped. “You ever heard stories of people going to the past, sister Heloise?”

“Can’t say I have.” She shook her head “I’ve only heard of prophetic dreams, like the ones Gianna had. Most of the time they were neighbors dying and plague outbreaks, but towards the end they were more personal”

“Personal how?” I asked

“Ooh..” She tightened her lips and cast her golden-brown head down “I shouldn’t have mentioned it, i’m so sorry. She used to have these horrible dreams of a girl, probably you and.. This boy, coming to Jerusalem and dying here.”

“What boy? Was it Charlie?” I pried her for answers as I diverted my own attention away from my product. Heloise shook her head. “ _ Carlo. _ ” I reiterated in the Latin dialect “My brother”.

“Yes, that must be him. I’m sorry, she just.. I didn’t know she had children until after she died. She was very secretive about her life, Goodness, Gianna wasn’t even her real name.”

“I still miss her.” mourned Reynard “She was a ray of sunshine, far too lively to be a nun though, no offense Elli. I just don’t know if she would have taken that vow had she lived.”

One of the many downsides of losing your mother as a child is never really getting to know her as a teenager or adult. You hear stories secondhand, but all of your own experiences amount to a vague memory of a nurturing, nearly-divine figure who was three times your height and who always smelled like something wonderful. When you hear those stories, it's like listening to someone talk about a stranger. With a father I was too afraid to ask about her, and a brother who knew as much as I did, the memory of my mother that I brought to Jerusalem was a broken silhouette. With each detail she seemed to become more real to me, like any subject of History would as I pieced together their lives through shreds of evidence. 

Though time and circumstance blew them away, I knew I was walking in her footsteps, somehow.

“Did you both know about her and Bartolomeu?” I asked, there was a pause before Reynard spoke up.

“I did, I forgave the man too. It was just good seeing him happy after everything he went through.”

“I did, I covered for her a few times too, wrong though it may have been of me.” She sensed my shock, on account of how strict the Benedictines were “Before you judge me, it was better than pressuring her into a lifestyle she might not have wanted in the long-term.”

“I know you did, thank you both.” I put a paperweight on the book Nasir gave me so I could reference directions. I moved my focus to my work to keep the day from becoming too tragic.

“ _ I’m from the future. _ ” I repeated over and over in my head. Reynard and Heloise argued “ _ how? _ ”, while every day I asked myself “ _ why? _ ” I would tell them one day, if I ever got the chance. They would know the truth. 

“ _ Not Yet”  _ my intuition whispered to me. Nasir told me about the importance of my gift, and what it means for the human spirit. “ _ The time will come when they will learn” _   something inside my soul told me  _ “And they will have more than the truth alone; they will have faith when faith is wanting. _ ”

Perhaps there was a reason three generations of women arrived in this same century, after all.

* * *

 

Reynard left that day, sworn off alcohol and in pursuit of quiet meditation in St. Catherine’s monastery at the foot of Mount Sinai. Three days passed without palace summons. Heloise, Athanasius, Maria and I answered inquiries about Reynard’s whereabouts, and we answered them honestly. Despite the man being out of our hands, the Templars were insistent. They needed him present for a Papal visit come Christmas. During this time, the Pope would select a new Grandmaster. If Reynard was not present for the Papal visit, Reynard may not become Grandmaster at all. We believed he wanted it to be this way.  


The harassment answered the question of why Baldwin had not summoned me; the twelve days of Christmas were a few weeks upon us, and he was a very busy man. The ruling family would be one of his Holiness’ first stops on his visit.

I took my mind off of the situation by keeping it busy. Using Nasir’s textbook, I was able to create penicillin far more efficiently, even if I lacked some of the ingredients that made it palatable and easy to digest. Aside what I spared for the Benedictine’s hospital, I had to earn a living somehow while I was here. My savings were drying up as I ran out of basic salves to sell, and the uncertain status of my employment. After looking at the other medications in the book, I wished I was more learned in math and chemistry so that I could create something more complex; cloxicillin, carbenicillin, and some things that were beyond my own time. 

The difficult part was somehow turning a profit. I had consumed the penicillin myself and felt fine, but I could not, no matter how hard I tried, catch a fever. Unless I decided to give myself a nasty cut and infect the flesh, I would have to skip human trials altogether. I was confident it would work, anyway. I followed the directions and had the Count of Tripoli as an example of the drug’s success..

Yet to no one’s surprise but my own, I could not find a single buyer to what was to be a revolutionary drug in the 20th century. I had paid my way through college selling overpriced perfume to the upper crust of Bel Air. I was fairly confident in my ability to pitch a sale, but when I stepped out and opened my wares to the wider market, I didn’t take into account skepticism of the time. Most reviled the snake oil salesman, especially when she claimed to make the strange powder herself. The cries of “Armenian Dog” and “Bloody Thief” did get tiresome. I didn’t even bother to tell them the main ingredient was derived from mold, they were put off enough. 

I always told myself not to give up, but I eventually went back inside and stopped trying to sell the antibiotic. My frustration laid in the fact that this was an age where men would ride off to far away lands to fight and bleed for the promise of salvation and healing, but few would take a chance laid before them. I retreated my efforts, at least for the moment. 

In the late afternoon before the shop closed, when the market was still full of noise and people, a young woman with dark, curly hair walked into Maria’s shop towards closing that night. 

“I’m sorry, I know you are closing. someone told me you were selling a cure for sickness.”

“I tried to.” I bit my tongue, I thought she had come to mock and berate me like the others, until I turned to see her condition hidden beneath a thin layer of white paint. She wore heavy makeup. The white paint over her face barely concealed the spots underneath. Her revealing dress beneath a drab poncho indicated this woman was a prostitute, one clearly suffering from syphilis.

“I’ve try everything else, the doctors think I'm disgusting. No help. Please, i’m desperate.” She sobbed and pleaded to me in broken Latin “I cannot work if they find out, and i’ve missed.. bleeding.. I need to take care of this baby.” I was overcome with pity for a woman shunned for her circumstances. I wrapped two vials of the powder into a small envelope and gave it to her.

“Its okay.” I consoled her “Take it, don’t worry about paying me back, just come back if you need more. One spoonful in the morning and one at night, no matter how bad it tastes. Some vomiting is normal.”

“Oh mercy, thank you” She clutched the parcel and wished me well, before heading off.

“Suzie.” Maria grumbled from the corner, boxing up a new shipment of French bibles for a merchant’s order “Pity the girl, but the moment you start servicing prostitutes, word will spread to our clientele.”

“I didn’t even think about that.” I didn’t regret helping her, but I realized how careless and socially unaware I had been. “I’m sorry.”

Maria shook her head “When those spots disappear, shes gonna tell all her friends. Make those deals outside of my shop, please.” 

There was a knock on the closed door, and the gentle scraping of parchment paper beneath it. Maria walked over to the door and picked the note up.

“Palace summons at dusk?” Maria grimaced. “This must be meant for tomorrow. It’ll be dark by the time you get there.”

“ _ Something is wrong _ ” I thought to myself, knowing that there was no reason to call me over this late at night, “I have to go.” I told Maria. I left quickly with my handbag, knowing she could not yet understand my concern.

“Have a bodyguard escort you back!” She called after me as I ran out the door, down the street, to the stables and mounted Mongkut. I couldn’t tell if she was kidding or if the streets of Jerusalem were getting more dangerous. With plenty of room to improve, I saddled and clumsily rode him out of the still-packed mouth of the marketplace, annoying some pedestrians as I passed through droves of them on my way to the palace. It wasn’t a terribly long ride, but I had to control Mongkut from charging too fast as families walked around us.

The palace was every bit as perfect as I recall; it was a mishmash of imported Western European crenelations with local designs for the windows and interior. I knew it would be destroyed in the years to come. I savored the privilege of being able to see it as it was.

“You again” the guards recognized me, even in the dark atop my horse. I was roughly their height, as most men of the 12th century were relatively short due to nutritional differences. I towered above them all on horseback, But the soldier that greeted me at the gate stood an intimidating six inches above me standing up. Their general lack of urgency told me that Baldwin was, at least alive and safe.

“Me again.” I felt a surge of confidence, even as Mongkut paced restlessly “I was summoned.”

“I believe you.” I couldn’t identify his face from behind his helmet as he looked up at me from the darkness, I only heard a familiar huskiness in his voice.

Unaware of where the stables actually were, I tied Mongkut to a stone post and entered the palace. I wandered the halls I was still unaccustomed to until I reached the banquet hall, wherein I heard an older gentleman and woman arguing. The door was cracked open so that I could see the dim candle lighting flickering from beyond. With what remained of the natural light, it wasn’t terribly dark; I could see the magnificence of the hall and the silhouette of the two figures within; the slim, graceful frame of lady Agnes, and the smaller, wizened, but still spry form of the now-Patriarch Heraclius of Caesarea. They were arguing in French. Even if I could understand, Agnes spoke too quickly for me to distinguish one word from the other.

A gentle tap on the shoulder nearly sent me flying into the ajar door, which would have blown my cover entirely. I managed to stifle a scream even as I turned to face the tanned, aging face of William of Tyre, adorned in white clerical wear.

“Shh” he whispered, waving his hand towards himself as he guided me back outside, towards the mouth of a pathway through the garden where flowing, irrigated water and the heavy walls of the palace could obscure our voices.

“Your excellency” I got on one knee and kissed the Archbishop’s ring, still trembling from nearly revealing myself to the Queen Mother and Latin Patriarch. I knew Agnes did not want me there, I can’t imagine she was pleased with Baldwin’s decision to  _ keep _ me there.

“Pay no attention to the lovers quarrel, they’re just upset I decided to visit the old city for the Papal visit come Christmas.”

“I take it you do not get along?” Relief flowed over me when I got a sense of his demeanor. Intimidation aside, he was a man whose work I deeply respected.

“The Lady Agnes and I have very, very different opinions about whom should have power in this country, and over what.” His steps were small and slow. I followed them in tempo, watching my feet as we stepped over the loose gravel path. “It still upsets her that I am still, technically, his majesty’s Chancellor.”

“Was it you that summoned me here, then?” I asked

“Indeed it was, after his majesty told me you were to continue my search for a cure for his illness.”

“I never realized you were trying to cure him all this time.” I disclosed sadly “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He chuckled, holding his hands behind his back as he continued down the path “I adore his majesty. My only children have ever been my students. When you have children of your own, you’ll understand you’d do anything to help them.”

“You’re okay with this then.” I was flattered, but surprised “It doesn’t bother you, at all, that I'm a woman and not in the clergy?” I asked him to clarify as I awkwardly dodged the prickly leaves of a young palm tree.

“Mm, this country is in trouble because of old families trying to fight new problems with old solutions.” he condemned the feudalism of Jerusalem’s society. “You are younger than I, and seem more well-versed in the heathen world. Few of us are so brave, even if we may find answers to our very human problems beyond Christendom.” 

We were quiet as we walked, slowly, to what I anticipated would be the king’s quarters. The familiar scent of burning sandalwood let me know we were close by. I wondered if I should ask a question, about William of Tyre himself, but I realized I knew little about his life, and had no clue which works he had published by this time.

“I’ve offered to do this before, you know.” I decided to ask about the king “But he seemed resigned to his fate. Why would he offer this chance to me now?”

“I’ve tried everything, child. He is not tired of living, he is tired of disappointment and is hopeful for a miracle. I think he has faith in you, as I do.”

“ _ No pressure at all. _ ” I thought to myself.

I recognized the balcony above us as a guard let us through a painted wooden door. I helped the archbishop up the stairs until we reached a spacious hallway with two familiar double doors leading to the king’s quarters. I suddenly felt nervous about seeing him. My robes weren’t the most flattering garments in the world, but I had made myself presentable enough for the market to pass.

“Your majesty, I’ve retrieved your alchemist.” William called out to the room, Baldwin was slaving over something on his desk, upon our entrance, I saw that they were plans of some kind.

“What are you working on, your majesty?” William asked, peering over the King’s shoulder.

“Plans for the holy father’s reception.” He mumbled, setting his quill down. “This is the seventh draft.”

“Have you slept at all?” William responded. The King shook his head as he turned to face us. His gaze was angled away from me shyly, even as I gently helped him to his feet and towards the seating area. I was excited to see him, but I had to seem professional for the company we had.

“Sit next to him, Susana. You’ve brought this panacea with you, I hope?” Thankfully, I had carried some of my wares with me in my bag, and I pulled out the dark glass vial. Baldwin sat quietly at my side, close enough that I felt the warmth of his body through my sleeve.

“Here it is” I balanced the vial of powder between my fingers. I knew William probably wanted an explanation, so I would have to give it to the best of my ability. “This might sound abhorrent, but this is a derivative from a mold. Filtered thrice. I’ve used it on the count of Tripoli and common soldiers. If you still have doubts, that at least guarantees it won’t kill you.”

“What is it called?” the archbishop yawned.

“If all goes as I hope it will, I will call it ‘Miracle’” 

“And how does it work?” He seemed to be listening intently

“I will show you.” I reached for a marble-glass decanter of water and poured it into a drinking cup, tapping a quarter of the vial in, trying to imagine an amount that would be effective for someone of Baldwin’s height and weight. I vaguely explained the origins of the formula in supernatural terms. It seemed dishonest, but I held to the truth of the fungus’ properties in terms of divinity and their subsequent ability to destroy bodily corruption.

“Are you ready?” I looked Baldwin in his tired blue eyes. He nodded, glancing away from me for a moment towards William. “Do I have to sip this first to prove its not poisoned?”

“Look” he nodded in the direction of William, who had fallen asleep in his seat.

“Oh.”

“He’s slept far less than I have.” Baldwin lifted his mask up, sliding his hand beneath it to rub his eyes. “My mother has been hounding him since he got here.”

"He chose a great time to summon me." I remarked sarcastically before turning my attention back to the matter at hand "Are you sure you want this?" I knew he would say yes, but I Looked into his eyes for his real answer; "You don’t have to do what they say. You are their king, but if you want me to heal you, I will do everything in my power to make it so."

The room was quiet save for William's quiet snores. It was hardly as romantic as our previous meetings, but I had missed his presence so much I couldn't care less. He embraced me and I felt the warmth of his breath and words escape from the confines of his mask.

"Heal me" I knew he meant it. “You may fail or succeed, But when we meet our Heavenly Father, I cannot bring myself to tell Him I refused you.”

"Well then!" I responded excitedly as I toasted the cup “ _ Vive le roi! _ ” I gave my best shot at French as I took a small taste sip anyway, Before passing the medicine on to him. For some reason I expected him to drink the whole thing in one swig, but he stared at it for a while. He was hesitating, because it meant the mask had to come off.

“I can look away, if you want.” I awaited his response.

“No, watch me.” His voice was so gentle “If I will live to be an old man because of you, I want us to share this moment.” He lifted his mask off and nudged his hood to his shoulders. Blonde locks of hair that hadn’t been trimmed in ages fell over his ears and down the nape of his neck. He was very pale, but he didn’t look nearly as troubled as I was expecting. There was an odd sense of calm in his eyes, even as he drank from the cup and immediately started coughing.

“Hold on, your majesty” I stammered as I hurriedly ladled some plain water into the cup and handed it back to him. “Here, drink this, I know it tastes horrible, maybe you have some resin somewhere to mask the taste.” I looked to and fro for a tin of the medieval tree gum.

“Not..” His coughing fit continued “Not your fault.” He recovered, taking a sip of water. William was still sleeping soundly, though the noise caused him to shift a bit. “I’m recovering from another case of sweating sickness.” he whispered as he eased his silvery facade back onto his true face.

“Why didn’t you summon me sooner, then?” I rubbed his back “I know everything about stopping symptoms of the flu!”

“The what?”

“Uh, the disease you mentioned, I mean.” I laughed nervously “I forgot the name, but I’ve gotten it before. My father had ways to help me feel better. He at least knew everything about it.”

“The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I will keep that in mind.” he coughed softly again, followed by a smaller drink of water. “I’ve been trapped in this palace for weeks. I haven’t held court, nor have I had anyone to speak to that didn’t want something. My mother is being insufferable.”

I had an idea, though it seemed crazy. “Are you well enough to ride?”

"In body and spirit"

There were no late night venues or Ash Grove type places in Jerusalem, the most you'd find is a house of ill repute. I tried to share a mind with Baldwin, and I imagined someplace he'd like to go.

"Lets walk through the Battlements" I encouraged him "No one has to know"

"Sneaking out at night?" He chuckled, before he realized my offer was serious. "Susana, we aren't children".

"We're not old geezers either” I nodded in the direction of the archbishop. “And it's not technically sneaking out if all of Jerusalem is your charge.”

He was my reluctant host, and he showed me the way. I was willing to give William of Tyre the benefit of the doubt and assume he would not snitch to someone about our midnight walk. I knew that if his mother ever found out, she might have overreacted and casted me out-permanently. Through the open Andalusian doorways, I looked out upon the dimming lights of Jerusalem. The nights were dark here; all of the kingdom’s light came from fire alone. I could look up and still gaze upon the kingdom of Heaven and its worldly shadow below.

“Here” He guided me to

“Can we go over to the edge?” I pointed towards a broader opening in the crenellations “Right there?”

“We have to remain as close to the southwest as possible, there is no patrol there at night.” He still needed to keep our relationship a secret, especially now. I wondered if there would ever be a right time. I hoped we would have enough time to begin with.

“Look” he pointed his middle and forefinger to the group of bright stars. “There is Andromeda”

“Then that one must be Perseus.” I pointed adjacent to what Baldwin observed, matching the two lovers sealed forever in the night sky.

“Did Archbishop William ever teach you about the stories of the ancient Greeks?”

“I’ve read scrolls about the heroism of the Trojan War, I also read a rough copy of the Theogony, though I wasn’t allowed to.” He recalled proudly “What a fascinating religion the Pagans of old had. I wish that some written record survived to this day.”

“They do, they fell into the hands of the Romans, and in turn to the Egyptians. The Illiad was found and republished. We will find more of the old stories again, in time.”

He sat next to me as we looked out over a crenellation, in a joint effort to map out the night sky to the best of our ability. We were able to linger in comfortable silence for awhile. I loved to talk, he loved to think. We complemented one another in sound and in silence. 

“I love you.” He told me in a whisper as I turned my head once more to face the heavens. I needed only to adjust myself a bit far to find his eyes gazing down on me.

“I think I can see Aries.” I caught a glimpse of a triad of bright stars past the top of Baldwin’s head.

“So can I” He told me as he looked into my eyes. It was the most romantic thing I had ever been told, and in a split second he had ensnared my heart, my soul, every part of me.

“Kiss me.” I was a few heartbeats away from groveling. “Please”

“You’re mad” He twirled a lock of my hair around the soft fabric covering his index finger. "If I kiss you, you too will become a leper."  


“Consider it confidence in my own services” I would have done anything to take away his fears. I sat straight up and faced him, taking his bound left hand in mine. I couldn’t tell him how. At the time, I was certain I understood how my immunity worked; I truly believed I could never contract leprosy, and even if I did, I was certain I could cure it. It was all very simple, at least I wanted it to be. "You can never hurt me, Baldwin. I promise you.”

“Desire clouds our judgement” Baldwin withdrew his hand from mine to life the mask from his face, and I saw the shadows and shapes of his features from the velvety moonlight. The mask fell to the ground with a heavy click as he moved his hands to my neck and shoulders. “But I believe you.”. I closed my eyes and caught him in a white-hot kiss that seemed to last forever, and yet, not long enough. Soft moans escaped my throat as I guided him through each kiss. We were lost in each other, I couldn’t pull myself back out. Joy and desire trembled within me, love coursed through my every vein until I thought I would faint or die, or worse, wake up.

He pulled himself away from me for a moment, “ _ Vous êtes belle _ .” his voice was hushed.

“‘Beautiful’? You can’t even see me.” I cooed “It's so dark out here.”

“I don’t have to see you to know you are beautiful” He pulled me close so that the side of my head rested on his chest. He relaxed as he leaned against the barrier. “Don’t you understand?” He kissed me beneath my eyes and down to the nape of my neck, causing me to tremble. “More than you will ever know.” I leaned my head against the leprosy-marred face I so rarely got to see. We gazed out at the expanse of stars for a bit longer. “Maybe we have to kiss again, during daylight.”

“Come daylight then, we will see.”

We got to our feet and walked back to his quarters. Hand-in-hand, we walked silently. As we approached the archway, he put his mask back on. I knew he had something to ask, I wouldn’t know what it was until we returned. William of Tyre was nowhere in sight, likely to have gotten up and returned to his own lodgings. It was just Baldwin and I now. The candles in the room had all died out, leaving us with no less darkness than what was before. But there was more sound now, with the addition of chiming crickets in the Gardens. From where I stood I could still see Jerusalem in the distance. There were a few lights coming from

“Stay in the palace with me” he pleaded “So that we are never far apart.”

“Baldwin..” I blinked, shocked at the offer “I can’t do that, i’m sorry.”

It destroyed me to tell him no. I was truly feeling the calamity of being caught between two worlds; I had been so distracted by the bonds I had formed here, that I had neglected plans to reconcile with my family. To them, I might still be missing, they could be searching for me

The only way he would understand was if I told him the truth about my origins. 

“I.. respect your decision.” he responded sadly “Might I know why?”.

I embraced him and sighed “I live with my Grandmother now, she needs my help. I must also reconcile with my family.”

“I can send for them, if you like. I would even ensure they would not have to travel overland to Messina.” he continued “I’ll personally hire a housekeeper to aid your grandmother. Her services have benefited local educators beyond measure, she deserves it.”

I was his first kiss, maybe I was even his first love. On the same night we consolidated our romance, I had unintentionally made him feel rejected. He seemed to understand, but he was so fearful of our relationship ending that he was looking too deeply into why I had to refuse his offer.

“It isn’t you, my love.” I looked into his worried eyes, refusing to turn away “It's the Politics, and Family. I will visit you every day, but I cannot stay here.”

Heartbroken, I bade him goodbye. Even in the darkness, I could see the deep feeling of rejection in his eyes. I knew he didn’t want to feel that way; insecurity was a byproduct of his isolated and lonely upbringing. It was no less ruinous for my soul to know he was hurting. In a perfect world, I would have said yes without hesitation and leapt into his arms. 

This was not a perfect world.

Despite all the roadblocks, I wished I had been born in the 12th century, it would be an easy life in exchange for a simpler life. If I went back to the Jerusalem of my time, I might be forcefully sent back to the United States due to my status as a missing person. No one would believe the truth if I told them, and thus the investigation would continue. There was also the matter of time travel weakening the body, there was a very real possibility that I would not be able to travel back to the 12th century from the 20th again without killing myself.

But I had also committed to treating Baldwin, and I could not trust anyone in his court to create and administer antibiotics as intended. I had also began to love life in the crusader kingdom, more than I ever thought I could. This was something I never expected during my first few days, when I was counting down the moments I could run off to the Sepulchre and go back. In California, I was a nobody. I was a bookworm that walked amongst silver-screen titans and new-money dandies. In 12th century Jerusalem; I rode into great battles and witnessed long-extinct ways of life in normal practice. Royalty acknowledged me and remembered my name. Most of all, I was able to use my knowledge to make a difference in peoples’ lives. All that truly bound me to my old life were my friends and family; they deserved closure, even if I decided to stay.

Still unfamiliar with the castle, I made my way outside by retracing my steps. At last I made it to what I believed was the gate I entered through.

“Sire, have you seen my horse? Show-bred, he was right there.” I asked a guard, pointing to the post I had tied Mongkut to.

“Haven’t seen no horse” He replied. Each Latin-speaking guard stated the same thing, so I decided to search on my own. When he was not grazing in the front part of the grounds he could access, I entertained the possibility that he snuck out on his own.

Before I headed to the gate opening, a man ambushed me from behind a tree trunk and secured me under one arm, jamming a wedge of cloth into my mouth so I couldn’t scream. From the cool aura of his chainmail and the amplified breathing, I could tell he was fully armored. Amidst my whimpering and feeble thrashing, I heard a few voices in the distance.

“Stay quiet and follow me, if you want to live.” it was a dark, husky voice “I did tell you we’d meet again, didn’t I?”. Still familiar, it was the same as the guard from earlier

The same as the Black Knight from the joust.


	14. Philosopher King (+ART)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for some vaguely sexual content!!
> 
> I saw "Once Upon a Time in Hollywood", super sweet and the whole movie is prime 1960s Los Angeles aesthetics which gave me tons of inspo for Suzie and Charlie's characters (I wrote a whole background chapter for Charlie and his time in Vietnam and how it changes him, but its so unlike most of the material in this fic I'll probably post it as a separate oneshot thingamajig.)
> 
> Also, I decided to leave KoH playing as I wrote the last part of this and noticed that Nikolaj Coster-Waldau is in it, he looks so young I barely recognized him. Trippy.
> 
> Theres some cute art at the bottom of this fic, as well :) Enjoy! (I'm serious, enjoy. Things are about to get real depressing in a few chapters.)

I did as my captor demanded, walking in step with him was cumbersome, as he held me tightly against his armor. The voices of three arabic-speaking young women in the distance were the obstacle he was hoping to avoid. They three were dressed in a pale ochre color with their hair pulled back.  


“ _ Do you think we will have new dresses for the princess’s wedding? _ ” one chimed

“ _ Not if we’re in Lady Agnes’ company the whole time _ ” one of her colleagues responded

“ _ I wonder if Lord Guy has a younger brother _ .” another girl swooned, their gossiping faded as the knight shoved me into a feed silo near the stables. The linen stuffed in my mouth remained dry as my trembling throat, my body went into shock as I anticipated the worst. I wanted to scream, I was already crying when at last we arrived in a wooden shed filled with straw. The knight threw me onto the pile and drew his blade. 

“Don’t shout, don’t make a sound.” the pale blue reflection on the blade drove me further back into the hay as I fearfully pulled the linen from my mouth.

“I’ll give you everything I have” I stammered as I tried to respond calmly “please don’t kill me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you.” he growled. Though his face was obscured by his heavy helmet, he sounded as if he was masking his own voice with cotton stuffed in his cheeks. He wore the royal court of arms, but his mail rode up his shoulders. Having myself donned armor fitted for another person myself, I knew it was not his.

“You are no guard.” I came to the realization of who this bannerless warrior was “I remember you from the joust, who are you?”

“And yet  _ ‘ah _ was kind enough to let you in.” he responded, flipping his sword to its side. He spoke true, he was masquerading at the front as a guard when I came in, which is why his unnatural voice was so familiar.

“Please” I felt dizzy as the tip of the blade hovered between my eyes “Why are you here, what do you want?”

“I was going to finish a job” He sheathed his sword “But you got in my way.”

“Soldier, what are you going to do?” I called after him as he turned away “If you don’t tell me, i’ll scream!” I called after him, lifting myself off of the hay.

“Don’t call me t'at.” He was offended “I’m going to keh’ll that horrid bitch Agnes and the Lusignan creature” He seethed, looming over me in a display of intimidation “And if you don’t fuck off and run away right now, they’ll think you we'

rle conspiring with me. It’ll give then another reason to try and take you out.”

I stood up and ran in front of him as he tried to leave, trembling but firm. He didn’t have it in him to kill me. “Its true the King’s Mother doesn’t like me, but they’ll never believe a tradesman’s daughter had enough influence to murder her.” I paused, as did he “The king will have your head if you kill the queen mother in his palace, assuming you can even get past the guards, the real guards.”

“You’re  _ assuming _ I planned on leaving this place alive.” His voice trailed off, wearily “Everything Agnes touches dies. Everything her thrall, the princeling of Lusignan touches will also die. The serpent must be cut off at its head.”

“You’d be fighting death with more death.” I cried, “Please, it doesn’t have to be this way. Talk to me, I won’t tell anyone your secrets, please. Don't do this." He turned and stormed off, and I was reminded of a little detail Heloise disclosed with me.

“Did you know my mother?” Heloise had made between my mother’s ailing health and the arrival of the knight. “Did you kill her too? He said nothing and continued to walk off as I followed him, my voice choking with rage “Did you poison her? Did you poison a pregnant woman?” I shoved him away from the palace and he shoved me aside, knocking me to the ground.

“ _ Noises, right around here. _ ” I heard a man’s voice called from around the corner

The knight took off, surprisingly full of stamina for someone wearing mail. I tried to keep up, following him on my lighter feet. He ran through hedges and between trees, and into the darkest places in the city. I should have been afraid, but despite my accusations, I knew he followed some sort of chivalric code, one that spared me of his vigilantism.

"Please." I was huffing and puffing, moreso than the larger man wearing iron chainlinks "It’ll help” I gasped “It'll help.. If you talk, Why are you doing this?"

"You will know, in time.” He peered at me from behind his helm in the darkness. He took off around a corner, extending his blade to slice the bindings of shelves that held the heavy, drying bakers pottery. The tall vases tumbled to the ground, some shattering, and some rolling towards me. I threw myself back to avoid tripping over them in the darkness. The knight was gone, I knew I had to make my way back to the palace to alert the guards. I ran back through the ancient, labyrinthine streets of Jerusalem until I found the castle walls once again, I bumped, full speed, into an older man. He was tall, sturdy, and wore fine, soft clothing. It was the count of Tiberias, Count Raymond of Tripoli. He pushed me back and held me by the shoulders.

“What's happened, Susana?” he rushed me for an answer, his voice full of concern.

“There was an assassin” I was panting “He said he was going to kill Lady Agnes, please, we need to find her now.” I tried to drag him towards the palace. “Now!!”

“Are you absolutely certain?” He sounded shocked “What did he look like?”

“He was wearing stolen armor, he was dressed as a royal soldier, he could be back already, please.”

The count whistled for a guard that had been pursuing the disturbances, and sent him to alert the others.

“Are you injured?” He asked me, examining the straw clinging to my robes. I shook my head. “Come” he pulled me closer to him “These matters shouldn’t worry you, let me escort you home, where do you live?”

“The apartments” I responded, “Joined to the market.” I didn’t quite feel safe walking alone with a man I scarcely knew, particularly after my ordeal.

“Thank you your grace, but I don’t want to trouble you further.” I bowed my head “Thank you for your help, please send the lady of Courtenay my best wishes.”

“Danger is still out there, dear lady.” He insisted “It is the least I can do for you for saving my life.”

I felt a strong sense of pride knowing I had helped“Are you safe?” I asked, knowing his fine clothing would make him a target for muggers. He patted the palm of his hand on the hilt of his blade, sheathed and ready at his side. I was safe enough, if worse came to worse, I knew I could sprint for quite a while without getting too tired.

“What brings you back to the city?” I asked shyly.

“Princess Sibylla’s wedding, of course.”

“Were she and Guy not already married?”

“Legally, yes. But now Heraclius must recognize their marriage in a separate ceremony.” He cleared his throat. We walked quietly a bit longer, he told me a little about Galilee, and how the seasons changed there, and the color of the harvests. The conversations were not exciting, but when I closed my eyes I imagined the holy fields and golden valleys he spoke of, and the numbers of baby lambs that had been born that spring, my heart felt at ease. We returned to the subject of visitors, and I noted that William of Tyre was also present in Jerusalem.

“I thought everyone was turning up for the papal visit” I sighed. I hadn’t seen Sibylla in some time, I had been too preoccupied with my work for correspondence.

“That is not for a while” he chuckled “Its all been planning for the wedding. Are you married, Susana?”

“Hehe.” I giggled awkwardly, shying my blushing face away like a schoolgirl as my mind was filled with romantic hopes for the future. “I wish.”

“Well” he followed me to my doorstep “You are a remarkable woman. It will not be long before a good man falls at your feet.”

I smiled politely, despite how weird the situation was getting. “Susana” he coughed nervously, intent on saying something. I kept my composure, waiting for him to finish his statement. “Have a good night”

“Get home safe, your grace.” I bowed my head with gratitude “Thank you for everything.”

When he left, I curled up on the floor. I sighed as the ground sapped the excess heat from my body. I would have to bathe myself in the morning, which meant I would have to make more soap to bathe with, that was before helping to open the shop and doing my other tasks. I thought of the knight and Agnes. I wondered if I was to be questioned about the incident, I knew I would have to bring the matter up to the chamberlain, eventually, especially as more and more of Jerusalem’s leaders flocked to the palace. I didn’t yet fully understand how deep the political rivalries ran in Jerusalem. I took my mind away from the world for a minute, as I remembered how the moon and starlight danced and illuminated Baldwin’s silhouette, and how he looked down upon me with such love I thought I would cry just remembering it. I stroked the silk detailing of the woven rug I slept on, imagining it was the sleeves of his arms. I hadn’t touched his skin, I imagined it was softer, more welcoming. It would be as warm and calming to the touch as he was to my anxious spirit.

“ _ Are you thinking of me? _ ” I thought to myself as I drifted to sleep “ _ From your great and glimmering tower, do you think of me on the ground? _ ”

* * *

I often had nightmares about the war. I had visions of bodies falling onto spears, being hoisted into the sky and tossed around. I felt a thunderstorm of hooves and raging men around me, human lives falling to the ground. Their brains would explode onto the desert sands as they were struck by falling blades. I heard the cracking of their jaws as they were struck with shields. I saw the life fade from their eyes as they were skewered on great lances. I saw the face of every man I couldn’t save, it reminded me that I was pretending, that I didn’t have the knowledge and that I had failed them and their families. 

I could never discern their armor, or their religions by appearance alone. For some reason, I always felt their spirits leave again and again. I couldn’t stop the dreams. Worse still, I couldn’t see an end or a beginning. For nights I just dreamt of war.

To take my mind from the traumatic memories, I filled my days with study, and with further reiterations of older stories. I was drafting a book, and filled pages with stories the great rulers and unifiers of Mesopotamia. Such things couldn’t be published for public consumption due to their heathen origins, but that did not stop private enjoyment amongst others.

Urchins came to our doorstep regularly, and Maria would feed them each time. She was a collector of strange trinkets, not wealth, and a good chunk of her income as a middleman in manuscript trade went to lending favors to other merchants and aiding the starved market children.

Sunday seemed to be the day when they came to us the most, as even the local monks were too occupied with religious services to offer relief to the impoverished. I got up early and made a stew of indiscriminate vegetables and lentils. The good thing about the crude stove I used to cook everything was the time I had inbetween. I sat in front of the fire and practiced my Arabic writing, again and again. I rarely had practice with the language other than bartering in the market. Drawing from translated scrolls from Arabia, I wrote my own iteration of the tale of Achilles and of the Trojan war. I knew the  _ Illiad _ in great detail, so I knew what I was writing as I went along. I scratched out my errors, and before I knew it, I had a story to read to the little children.

My grandmother, tough as she was on adults, was deeply protective and loving towards the children that came to her store for help. She disapproved of me brokering deals with sick prostitutes in her shop, but was willing to risk her reputation to help children that others dismissed as “dirty” or “disease-ridden”.

“They will die long before you and I will be born” She reminded me as she poured my humble breakfast into the small wooden bowls of each child “But to this country, they are the future. Teach them kindness, love them when nobody else will, and they will someday do the same.”

And love them I did, some came every day, some came when they had no other choice. I fed them, sang to them, told them all the myths and stories of the classical world that I knew. I prayed with them, and I quietly dreamed I had the resources to start a school that could house and educate each and every one of them. Some of them would disappear, and I would never know what happened to them. I wanted to know each and every one of them was going to be okay.

I left the shop a bit hurriedly this Sunday, hoping to make it to service at the Holy Sepulchre. I hadn’t heard news of the palace pass through the marketplace at all, and I wondered if all was well. The nobility had their own, private services and communion, but I may be lucky enough to recognize a face from court. I wore the clothes Nasir gave me, I still knew little about 12th century fashion, but despite the foreign nature of the clothing, it was modest and beautiful enough for me to easily navigate among the upper crust of Jerusalem.

At least, I thought it was modest. I ignored the rude comments from passing men regarding my chest and pulled my facial veil down, using it as a scarf. I had noticed that, compared to my own time, breasts weren’t very sexualized in the 12th century, except for when rude, strange lechers offered to grope them. I still wasn’t entirely used to covering my entire body and my hair when the weather was so hot, but I would have to learn.

I worked my way through the masses of people lining up to touch the worn-down reliquaries of saints. An old set of iron roman chains caught my eye. They had not rusted over, owed to the physical attention given to them, and I recognized the style from similar ones found beneath the Coliseum. Something seemed familiar about them, I was too afraid to ask which saint they belonged to. I hovered my hand close to them but did not touch them

 

_ a martyr that shares my name. _

 

I pulled my hand back and backed away, disturbed by my intuition. A haunting aura fell over me, and I did not notice as I bumped into another woman.

I gasped in surprise “Forgive me” I tried to excuse myself before looking eye-to eye with Sibylla, handmaidens in tow. Her pale, downcast eyes meeting my own, at her ankles was her son. “Princess Sibylla!” I exclaimed, relieved that she seemed happy to see me. She opened her arms to embrace me and kissed both of my cheeks. Baldwin the fifth was shy, and had seemingly forgotten me.

“Embrace Susana,  _ mon ami _ .” Sibylla gently commanded the prince as he walked out from behind Sibylla’s glamorous robes, reluctantly wrapping his arms around me. When he finished, he pointed to the images painted on the wooden pillars about the church, mostly the images of donors and other important people in the church’s history.

“ _ I want see _ ” he nudged me by pulling on my trousers, likely thinking of me as a maid.

“Of course, your majesty.” I lifted him onto my shoulders as he gazed in wonder at the colorful decorations that were harder to see from the ground.

“If you let him use you as a mount” Sibylla chuckled “You will spoil him.”

“Let's consider it a passive art history lesson, then.” I smiled at her. She was happy, dressed far more plainly than usual, and far less decorated in gold and frivolities. “Are you going to have the wedding ceremony here?”

“Yes, but between you and I” she sounded worried “That was me looking for an excuse to come to the city.” She guided me outside, her curious boy still riding on my shoulders “The dreams stopped, but not this sense of dread. It comes, and then it goes. The worst part is that there is no real way to describe it, and knowing no one would believe me if I tried to.”

“I believe you.” I reassured her. I bit my lip and asked the question that was on my mind “Did Count Raymond tell you of the intruder from the other night?”

“Yes.” Her voice was soft “My mother wanted to speak with you about that, actually. The Chamberlain is being investigated, though he confirmed that a suit of armor was stolen.”

“Sibylla, do you remember the black knight?” I asked her, “The one at the tournament, who refused to wear a coat of arms?”

“Ah, so its was him.” She bowed her head “I thought his words were the empty threats of an obsessive lunatic.” She stopped by a ripening grapevine and took a cluster of dark, ripe grapes from it, handing individual berries to me and her son. “Delicious things, especially in Italian wines. My absolute favorite. Your kind are perhaps the only republicans I can stand.”

“Why, thank you. Perhaps I’ll return to Florence one day and start a vineyard.” I waved my hand before me as I spoke “I’ll call it; ‘ _ Princess Sibylla of Jerusalem’s Happy Place _ ’”

“You’re funny” she chuckled, covering her mouth as she finished chewing one of the dark purple grapes. “If you can make it this evening, come to my wedding ceremony. My guards will let you in, and i’d greatly appreciate you keeping  _ him _ from being bored to death”. She gestured towards the toddler reaching for the tree branches lingering above my head. I stood on my tip toes to get him closer to the round, perfectly green leaf he so desired to pluck.

“Where did you get those lovely clothes, Susana?” She eyed the billowy pants and curled slippers that flowed past the curves of my legs. “I’ve received a few Saracen illustrations as gifts. I quite like the way the Arab women dress in those scenes.”

“A Persian friend gave this to me.” I adjusted the veil-scarf around my neck. “It isn’t wedding appropriate, I fear.”

“It absolutely isn’t” An older woman’s voice emerged from the corner “But that can be fixed”. It was Agnes, and this was the first time I got a really good look at her. She was tall, she had fair hair. The entire Anjou-Courtenay family group was incredibly attractive, but Agnes was  _ gorgeous _ , particularly for a woman her age. Hers was a stern, serious beauty, one that reminded me vaguely of an older, confident Jane Russell.

And she was looking at me like I was yesterday’s garbage.

“Mother.” Sibylla greeted Agnes “This is Susana, I've told you about her.”

“That you have.” She extended her hand out to me, and I kissed her hand in polite submission.

“I’ve invited her to the ceremony.”

“How lovely.” She lifted a sleepy prince Baldwin from my arms and rocked him for a few seconds, then handing her back to Sibylla “Perhaps then you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her for a few moments so that I may get her outfitted.”

I turned at Sibylla, who urged me on. I looked at the magnificent outfits both women wore, and wondered how long i’d have to work at paying one off if I bought it on credit from the dressmaker. I followed Agnes as she calmly walked under the shaded pathways of the Holy Sepulchre, she shooed all but two handmaids that trailed us, they followed us at a distance, protecting our privacy.

“I’m sure you have hard feelings after Jaffa.” She spoke sternly “I hope now you understand why I must clean house from time to time.” She was referring to the assassination attempt.

“I do understand, your grace.” I agreed “Forgive me if I ever gave you cause not to trust me.”

“I hope you do not take this personally; it's not that you’ve offended me, its that you have not earned my faith yet”. Her face changed little as she spoke, the dainty fine lines around her mouth showed that she did not smile often, the deeper lines around her forehead showed that she preferred to scowl.

I thought about asking her about my mother, as Agnes had allegedly promised land deeds to the church on her behalf. I felt that one would have to wait until I could break the ice somehow. It was difficult when you were talking to someone so stone-cold.

“This is the place.” She guided me to a well-built stone building, recently built, managed inside by ladies from Europe. We walked through the door and all eyes were on us, especially as the girls flocked around her, greeting her with kisses. She seemed very well-liked. Either she was a font of money, or perhaps she was not as standoffish as she came across to me.

“This is the new woman his Majesty has hired,  _ Susana di’Firenze _ .” She introduced me to the women, their white faces and whiter teeth beaming with excitement “She is the official court.. What was your official title again? Magician?”

“ _ Alchemist _ .” I corrected her, humiliated.

“How very mysterious” She smiled “Bring us to the back, and suit her for the ceremony, preferably something that compliments her figure as that Arab  _ bustier _ does.” Growing up in a country with puritanical roots, I hadn’t considered that visible curves might be considered acceptable for a sacred event like a wedding, Agnes’ specification caught me off guard.

“Your Grace, I have a silly question.”

“If It doesn’t make me laugh, it isn’t silly.” She teased “Let's hear it.”

“What do people of high standing usually wear to a crusader wedding?”

“A  _ crusader _ wedding?” Her eyes opened in surprise at my choice of words “A Christian wedding in Jerusalem is not much different fashionably from what one would wear in the old kingdoms, I assure you.” She relaxed in her seat “I forget you are of common birth, we generally wear clothing that honors our house or connotes our status. It is as much an honor to dress for these events as it is to witness them.

“Even the bride dresses this way?” I was surprised, I had assumed the tradition of brides wearing white was older than it really was.

"Even the bride. It varies from person to situation" she nodded as the seamstresses brought in some red dress pieces. "When I married Amalric, I was wearing all the jewels that had been included in my dowry. I was surrounded by more gold than king Midas."

I gasped as the brassiere was bound around me, I didn't have a mirror to look in to, but Agnes smiled in approval. "Now the sleeves."

The women pulled the red sleeves up my arms.

"The sleeves are from Tuscany, the gown was made in Venice, the silk is oriental." The women began wrapping my hair into a complicated map topped off by a decorative pin" You may not have an outstanding family name, but I hope clothing from your homeland will help you feel more welcome.

"You are very kind, my lady." I blinked, uncertain of myself "But I cannot afford this"

"I'm a bored woman, there is not much else to do with my wealth." she folded one of her legs atop the other. "I've heard you're keen on wearing men's clothing, including armor, it'd be incredibly unattractive to have a cross dresser in court."

"Academic robes are how I earn respect" I tried to justify my unfeminine fashion sense. "There aren't very many women in my line of work."

"You can be intelligent  _ and _ beautiful" she smiled at me for the first time, she had Baldwin’s smile. "Men are competitive creatures, dear. They rip at one another more than you think. Whether they respect  _ you _ or not is irrelevant.” She stood up and walked toward me, straightening out my sleeves “Do your work, and do it well. You will be respected by those who matter."

“Thank you.” I whispered, my mindset shifting between intimidation and sheer gratitude. I looked at the silken gold detailing at my chest and stroked the silk falling from my turban. I followed Agnes back to the Sepulchre, preparations were being made, and I was to hang about the other attendants. I would come across Agnes one more that night, when I, walking quietly enough to hear her praying. I overheard a few words of hope and well wishes, as well as some discerning names in French.

_ “Sybille"  _

_ "Baudoin"  _

_ "Aimery” _

She prayed for her children as all mothers do, but she was also praying for her ex-husband. They were long-divorced, and he had remarried and was years dead. But time does not heal all wounds, nor does it always lift the spell of love. That is what it was, after all the pain she must have felt, she still loved him.

* * *

The high, arching ceilings of the sepulchre glowed with amber as the last light of sunset crept into the lattice windows. I wore my crucifix on my neck, the shining red jewel at its core. I heard the sound; it was like a buzzing, but it seemed to permeate my flesh, calling to me. I tried to ignore the call as I took a deep breath and perked my head up for the wedding. I filed in with the Prince’s attendants, eventually working my way in alongside the clergy. I was well-dressed enough, at least by the standards of the witnesses of high standing. Raynald of Chatillon was not present, his wife, Stephanie of Milly was. She had gained some weight, and was pale from a possible lack of sleep, but drunk enough to give her cheeks a healthy pink color.

Sibylla’s son played with a polished wooden horse in my arms, Babbling near-complete sentences about an imagined rider on its back. I tried my best to hold his attention to the wedding, but his imagination superseded the celebration before him. I caught the eye of his uncle and predecessor at the side of the altar, he was not masked, but a white veil hung around the bottom half of his face, exposing only his eyes, hiding his face all the same. The golden crown of the throne of Jerusalem encircled his head like a halo. I smiled at him, quickly before turning my attention once again to the ceremony; the ceremonial wedding of Guy of Lusignan and Princess Sibylla of Jerusalem.

But I would have him after, after the vows were said, after Sibylla hurried off to spend the first night (or, first  _ spiritually-binding _ night) with Guy of Lusignan, whose beard had been neatly trimmed to stubble for the occasion, his head crowned with white roses, petals of which were tossed about them by children as they walked away from the altar, hand-in-hand.

“ _ Do they need witnesses? _ ” I asked myself, shuddering at the thought, “ _ To make sure the marriage is legitimate? _ ” I would have never dared to ask it out loud, and kept my rude thoughts to myself, though the question was driving me crazy.

I looked for him after, after everything had cleared out, when the private carriages were set up outside to lead the nobles back to the palace as if it were a crusader’s Versailles. I found him in the same secluded chapel, at the same alter I overheard his mother praying in hours earlier. He was lighting a white votive candle, also praying the name of his father.

He went quiet and turned, sensing that I was there.

“Forgive me, may I pray here too?”

“At my side” he patted the left side of the rug he knelt upon. I didn’t pray often, but when I did, it offered me an opportunity for introspection, even if there was no god listening to my woes, I could understand my own feelings and fears far better than I would by repressing them.

 

_ “Et unam, sanctam, cathólicam et apostólicam Ecclésiam. _

_ Confíteor unum baptísma in remissiónem peccatórum. _

_ Et expécto resurrectiónem mortuórum, _

_ et vitam ventúri sǽculi. Amen.” _

 

I prayed for the contentedness of my father and the safety of my brother. I prayed that my mother was safe, that the mirage of her in the desert was the mere collective imagination of myself and Bartolomeu. I hoped that her spirit was at rest somewhere, far away from our troubled world. I conjured up a letter to my father and brother in my head, I was no longer speaking to God or Christ or the Virgin Mary. I was begging for the forgiveness of my family, hoping that God could carry my message across the ages, dropping some sign into the lap of my father or Charlie, somehow letting them know the truth, and that I was okay, and that I was happy where I was. My life here was not always comfortable, but it was fulfilling. I had been gone for months, nearly a year. I reminded myself I was selfish, but how could I explain time travel to any of the relations Ive made here? How could they fathom that I came from a world they would never see? If I was going to be honest with one, it had to be so with the other.  


After what Nasir told me, and Maria’s own experiences, how could I even guarantee my own safe return to the 1960s? The journey could kill me, and someone on either side would never see me again. The portal was nearby, I couldn’t hear it, but I knew it was there. The sound of humming and buzzing was deeper, its reverberation in my soul was guilt.

“My father passed away six years ago.” Baldwin spoke softly at the small cross at the altar, as the reflection of the flames danced about it “I was thirteen and suddenly realized I had to  _ become _ him.” He folded both of his hands on his lap “I was a boy that was expected to become a man.. I know that isn’t possible, but I still ask the saints to tell me..” he paused sadly “If my father would approve of my decisions.”

I looked at him, my eyes downcast before returning to his “I didn’t know your father.” I responded, “But I know that there are few men I would trust in this country with my life, you are one of those men.” I continued, confidently “Your family’s futures and the future of this kingdom could not be in better hands than yours.”

“I know you don’t speak with your family,  _ mon lys _ , but God has given you but one worldly father, remember him, and treasure knowing his spirit still walks the earth.”

“I can say the same about mothers.” I smiled softly, holding both of his hands in the dim candlelight. “Treasure the nagging, and the sound of her voice, one day you may not hear it ever again. You will miss it.” I helped him to his feet, we walked away together, missing the crowds. He pulled aside the veil from his face and rested his chin between the decoration on my head, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. He was trembling, he had to make difficult decisions for the past half-decade, marrying his sister off to a social climbing knight in order to secure his nephew’s future reign was one of them.

But his nephew’s reign would not come to soon, only in the future I was trying to prevent. I had no interest in war or politics or family rivalries. I wanted only to protect my beloved, my friend, my kindred spirit, from his tragic fate.  


I stroked the cloak around his shoulders, it was an expensive mink, white with black spots patterning its interior in a perfect grid. A pale blue color adorned the outside, accented by the woven-gold pattern of the cross of Jerusalem pouring over his shoulders, it was an outfit meant for ceremonies, and it must have been in his family for generations. He removed it from his shoulders, and I instinctively moved to help him do so.

“Shame, the blue suits you.”

“I’m weary.” his voice was quiet as he pulled me towards him, kissing the top of my head “But I don’t want to return to the palace, not without you.”

“Come with me.” I suggested “Every other important person is here to watch over Jerusalem.  You are trapped in the palace all day, come see where I live.”

He did not even seem hesitant, quite the contrary “Then I will tell the guards I will return to the palace on my own” he looked down at me, his shrouded face inches away from mine.”

I took him to the Stables and we mounted Mongkut. We rode against the wind, which made it hard to hear each other. Baldwin attentively noticed my cracking lips and tearful eyes in the current of the cool, dry air, and wrapped the trail of my ornate turban around my neck, ensuring my skin did not suffer from the weather.

We arrived at the market. Being a Sunday, it was mostly quiet. “ _ Susa _ ” a little girl from the market approached me as we neared the door. Flimsy woven sandals crunched beneath her feet as she ran gently towards me.

“Birita, why are you out so late?” I scolded her, even the orphaned children knew not to wander around the empty market at night time.

“My mother is sick, too sick to cook.” she sounded sad, her parents were Germanic peasants who moved rocks for a living, and sold dyed wool in the marketplace for extra money, the mother was likely exhausted and overworked, so I brought the girl inside with Baldwin and I. I quietly wrapped up two small loaves of bread I had made the day prior, she handed me something her mother had given in exchange for help; strong threads for book binding..

“Go on, sweetheart.” I gave her a hug  “And keep studying the reading page I made for you”. 

“I’ve memorized it!” She giggled, her smile filled with gaps where baby teeth had fallen out and adult teeth were coming in. “Can I have a new one?” 

“Come back in two days” I kissed her cheeks, still speaking quietly. “Give my love to your parents.” Baldwin had watched my actions and remarked.

“I had no idea things were so dire on the ground.” He commented sadly, watching the dust-covered girl leave onto the dark street. “No child should go to bed on an empty stomach.”

“They are not as lonely as you think.” I reassured him “These people lack wealth, and life does get difficult during famines and droughts, but most of us look out for one another.” I scooped water from our reserve, into two clay cups for Baldwin and I before bedtime. The air was cool, but very dry. I lit a single candle between us. It was still too dark to see my alchemist’s table, but we were in my semi-private room, sitting on the ground. 

He was quiet, silently watching the tiny orb of fire dance atop the candlewick, taking in its bright ruby glow.

“I’m sorry its not more comfortable.” I apologized “I usually prefer the ground, it keeps me from getting too warm at night.”

“I’m plenty comfortable.” He reassured me.

“I’m sorry, I..” I felt that I had offended him in some way “I just wanted to bring you here so you could see my home, i’m sorry if this place has upset you.”

“ _ Mon Lys _ .” He came over and pressed his forehead against mine, I felt the soft movement of his veil as he exhaled deeply “I needed to see it. Do not worry.”

"Talk to me." I let my hair loose, exhaling with relief as my dark locks unstuck from the back of my neck, eagerly falling free "You know you can."

He sighed "Seeing you holding my nephew and dote on that small child…”

“What about it?” I asked him, helping him onto the pillow-covered mat I used as a bed.

"Never mind" his voice sounded sad, repressive of more words than he cared to express.

I smiled, sitting opposite of him beneath the high window above us. a small column of blue, dusty moonlight creeping in. I went behind my folding screen to change into my night dress and robe.

"If you stay the night, will they miss you at the palace?" I asked him as I changed quickly, taking off the dress Agnes gave me was the hard part. After I finished, I remembered to light some candles, an evening ritual I didn’t bother with unless there was company.

"No." he dismissed. He watched me nervously move across the room, before his eye caught sight of the unusual-looking yellow and black book Nasir gave me. He eased his way to his feet and stepped beside me before my reading desk.

He moved so quietly I did not notice him, and nearly threw myself backward in fright when he seemingly appeared next to me.

“I’m sorry.” He laughed gently “Something on your desk caught my eye.” He was looking towards the book. “May I?”

“You may.” I slid the book towards him “Its manufacturing is unusual, it is made in print, it is unattractive, but very useful and affordable.”

“What a magnificent yellow color” He admired the artificial lettering and flipped through the pages, his finger tracing around the spheres representing protons and electrons.

“ _ Sacred geometry _ ” he uttered from beneath the soft facemask “They’re circles, everywhere you look. And they can fit anything inside; the cross of Jerusalem, the star of David, and all of the other hermetic shapes Alchemists find useful.”.

“I have something you might like” I added excitedly, “Have you ever heard of a Platonic revival?” I looked through the stacks of papers on my desk, searching for a single drawing I had made in contemplation of the revelations Maria’s writing gave me “My grandmother has spent years studying the surviving work of ancient Alexandrian Philosophers, look at this.”

“It's a serpent eating its own tail” he stood behind me “ _ The All are One _ ” he repeated the Greek in heavy French accent.

“Its an Ouroboros, a principal figure in Alchemy and magic. It is a symbol of infinity, the end and the beginning are one in the same.” I turned my attention back to the book “It too is a circle, going on for eternity, encircling the past, and the present..”

“And the future.” He was so close to me I caught my breath and turned, leaning on my desk, steadying my feet to prevent the crude wooden legs from creaking enough to wake my grandmother.

“Yes.” I turned to him “Even the future.”

“Plato believed that universal constants, things like mathematics, shapes and sequences are completely separate from our world.” Well-read as Baldwin was, he knew more about the principles of alchemy than he believed. “He was a pagan, that argument is often used to discredit him, but the ancient Greeks were so brilliant, how could he have been wrong? I believe there must be more to this world than the tangible, things that Christendom has lost.” we pressed our palms together, his hands closing over mine as I closed my eyes in bliss and exhaustion.

“I feel the same way.” I whispered slowly as I found completion in where I was; centuries before my own birth, fingers interlocked with the young man I loved with a ferocity stronger than anything I had felt my whole life. I pulled his facial coverings down to his neck and kissed him. He seemed stronger every day, his body would never be the same again, but his soul was feistier, renewed, burning so brightly I could feel it through my nightgown, flowing in waves as he pushed me deeper into my desk, my toes struggling to keep contact with the ground as I wrapped my legs around him, desperate to love him. I felt him lower the neckline of my nightgown so that it hung off my shoulders, and sat comfortably just above the swell of my breasts. I was nervous, but I wanted it anyway. 

When he realized he couldn’t expose his body to me as I was willing to do for him, he stopped, panting quietly. In the dim light I saw him run his fingers through his hair before turning away from me, refusing to speak. The heat of his passion became burning shame, with a hint of fear.

To go further meant there were too many breaking of obligations; no premarital relations, no extramarital relations, no romantic relations whatsoever, especially with commoners. Those things were for men; healthy, virile, strong men. Men without bodies destroyed by disease. He had been reminded his whole life he was a leper, one of God’s most reviled creatures, cursed with a fate only Christ could cure. Men and women of his time could respect him and his accomplishments, but he would never be just “a man” to them; if he was something more, he was also something less.

But I was not a woman of his time. I was just a woman, and he was just a man. A very lonely, affection-starved, brilliant man.

“Come” I stood up and pulled him closer to one of the hanging candlelit lamps that illuminated my room, where the light was better. “I want to see you.”

“If I have crossed a line..” He pleaded as he followed my lead “forgive me.”

I smiled at him, my eyes adjusting to see his face “There is nothing to forgive.” I took in every inch of his pale face, humming happily as I kissed his lips. “It is late, If you are comfortable here, we can sleep together.” I looked at the canopied mass of cushions I had set up for us “If you can call my reading corner on the ground a ‘bed’, that is.” I waited for him to ask for me to saddle Mongkut, to take him home to his magnificent, comfortable, isolated towers.

“I want to stay here, with you.” He asserted “I will return to the palace tomorrow, as discreetly as possible.” He leaned against the wall, sinking into the dark, burgundy cushions. I blew out the candles I had lit and lay next to him as he wrapped a single arm around me, holding me close to him.

“You still have your shoes on.” I giggled, pressing my bare feet along the top of the smooth leather. He kicked them off in response.

“It's warm here.”

“It's actually cool, we’re just cuddled up like a couple of penguins.”

“Your home smells like oranges” he joked. I felt his arms shift, his hands move up to his neck, he was unbuttoning the top of his coat. 

“Oranges what I use to farm panacea” I responded. The smooth fabric came apart, exposing his flesh.

“What is it with you and oranges?” He returned his hand to my wrist, giving it a light squeeze.

“They have a lot of potential” I thought about the orange groves back home “And i’m just familiar with them.” I reached upwards to kiss him on the jaw, my wandering hand sat atop his chest. He didn’t react, many of his nerves must have been damaged by leprosy. I didn’t want to upset him or do anything he didn’t want.

“Is this okay?” I asked him

“Yes” He responded shakily, lifting my hand to his lips to kiss it, before returning it against his collarbone.” His skin was as soft as I had hoped. I felt poorly-healed scars along his body, and the marks and lesions of leprosy lining and spreading along what I imagined to be very pale, white flesh. I held him closer to me and told him how I felt in his ear.

“ _ I thank God for bringing us together _ ” I cupped the side of his face with my hand as we both quietly fell asleep. I said nothing more, not even a word about the warm teardrop that fell from his cheek and along my little finger.

* * *

 

“ _ Suzie! _ ” I heard Maria rage in the morning, It must have been around five, as dawn was newly-broken, and I was not yet awake “Suzanne, where in God’s name are you.” Maria yelled in English, I was often up at this hour.

“ _ Damn it, Damn it. _ ” I swore to myself over and over again. Baldwin lay next to me and was awakened by the noise, I tossed the blanket I was laying on and shushed him, not able to explain.

Maria pulled the cloth divider aside “Two young ladies have come for refills of your ‘Syphilis-Cure.” She was angry, I had, admittedly, done business she had told me not to do. I stood up at attention, before pulling a red silk robe over myself, rushing to the door “I will attend to them.”

“I’ve already given them your wares and sent them away” she put her hands on her wide hips.

“Susana, listen to me. This shop is how I make my living.” She was furious at my disrespect “I can’t go back. I am  _ stuck _ here, whatever that means to you, I have to live as selfishly as any other person of this time.”

“I’m sorry!” I blurted out in response, “It was just two women, I told them I would come to deliver the medicine to their brothel, they didn’t listen. Forgive me.”

“You live in my home, Suzie, my  _ business _ . I don’t even have a curfew set for you, all I asked..” Baldwin shifted beneath the blanket behind us “Oh, dear God.” Maria rushed past me “We will talk about this later.”

I turned to find her kneeling beside Baldwin, who had just woken up and had pulled his face mask over, and began to button his vestments back together at the neck. “What has happened?” He murmured groggily in Latin.

“Poor dear.” She pulled out a slice of turmeric “Chew this, it will help relieve the pain.”

“Nonna.” I pleaded for her attention

“I said later, Suzie. This pilgrim needs our attention.”

“Nonna!” I called louder. “That's.. That’s the king of Jerusalem.”

Her expression changed completely, and she looked back at the confused lord “Please forgive me, your majesty.” She turned back to me and asked, in Latin “Did you kidnap him?”

“No” I pressed my palms against my eyes, embarrassed. “He and I are very close, Grandmother.”

Maria enjoyed briefly embarrassing me, a sort of harmless revenge for my disobedience. She doted on him. Maria knew a lot about everything, but she knew a great deal about people, and how to make them feel at home. 

“I will not keep you long, your majesty.” She helped him to his feet “It is a great honor to have you here, and to know my granddaughter is caring for you.”

“You honor me by welcoming me into your home, Lady of Minasian. All the learned of Jerusalem have you to thank for their study materials.”

“Could I offer you some food and water?” She rushed to look for cups.

“Some water, perhaps, but I must return to the palace. I came to learn more of Alchemy.”

“I hope you found what you were looking for.” Maria was excited, it was really sweet.

“I did.” He stated with a double-meaning.

We rode for the palace, his majesty was not nearly as decorated as his sister, and blended in with the public quite easily. The path to the palace was hot and dusty, and filled with noise as the streets of the holy city filled with people of all walks of life. Baldwin wrapped an arm around me, steadying himself as he watched the masses of people flow past us on horseback, like the water of a river.

“Do you often see this part of Jerusalem?” I asked him over the noise, my voice faintly muffled by the cloth I wore over my face. “The swindlers, the poverty.”

“I wish I had seen it sooner.” He responded “Perhaps there is more I can do.”

“I have told myself the same.” I respected Maria’s rules for her home, but If I wanted to make changes, I would have to try starting it from the top. “That is why I have decided to join you in court, if your offer still stands, that is?”

“You are quite certain?” He sounded shocked

“Are you displeased?” I laughed “You can be loud out here, my love. No one will notice.”

“I am elated” He responded closer to my ear, squeezing me tighter. We passed a group of children, barefooted, and wearing rags. One of them recognized me.

“ _ Susa! _ ” he waved, holding a frayed, oversized cap over his head. 

“I want to help them all.” I told him, “My grandmother was angry because I treated sickly prostitutes. I understand she has a reputation to uphold, but if no one aids the vulnerable, who will?”

“I know more about Plato than we discussed yesterday.” He continued as the palace came into view “He also believed in the reign of the Philosopher king. The Philosopher King is wise, rational, benevolent, but above all, austere.”

“Are you planning something, your majesty?”

“I plan to protect the helpless.” he stated, dismounting from my horse. “This will be the first of changes at the beginning of my era of peace. I will have you at my side for it.”

“It's the king!” The guards called out, rushing around us.

“Allow my alchemist in” He commanded “Show her her quarters, assign her attendants.”

“Your majesty?” I asked him, pulling my face coverings down as the dust subsided.”That's not necessary”

“But it is deserved.” He took my hand as I dismounted from my horse. “I will see you tonight, for my treatment, of course.”

I watched him be escorted away. Several curious attendants helped me off Mongkut before carrying him off to the stables. I looked at the massive, towering spires of the palace in awe. This was my home now. I walked through the colonnades, admiring the sound of wildlife and the smell of native flowers. 

A little boy in pale blue garments, possibly a squire in training, ran up to me holding a slip of paper with a plain red seal. He bowed his head and ran off without a word.

I cracked open the seal.

_meet me outside the sepulchre at midnight. treason. sorceress. consequences._

It was unsigned.

 

* * *

 

thank you [yodah/reyisms](https://yodah.tumblr.com/) on tumblr for this beautiful commission :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- If you see me use the term “republican” in the context of the past, it is referring to those whose ideal gov model is a REPUBLIC (I.e. the Florentine republic) This has nothing to do with contemporary politics, unless I mention it in passing for 20th century scenes.  
> \- The term "Neoplatonism", the term itself is contemporary (19th century), so Suzanne does not use it when speaking to pre-modern people.  
> -I started calling Raymond the "Count of Tiberias" because i've accepted it sounds cooler than "count of Tripoli"  
> -Southern California used to have a TON of orange groves, they started dropping off around Suzie's time because of population booms, but they were there for awhile.


End file.
